


Yours in Friendship

by Muze



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Banter, Eloise will accomplish her goals, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Letters, Marina and Phillip really had it rough kids, Past Child Abuse, The Author Regrets Nothing, completely not planned out enjoy the ride, mentions of depression and suicide, mentions of the bridgerton books and the bridgerton marriages, so beware of spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 70,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muze/pseuds/Muze
Summary: Eloise did not know what to expect when she agreed to accompany Penelope to visit Marina. In any case she did not suspect to make a new friend. God, she hoped her mother would never find out she had a mail conversation with a man. AKA "The eight year slowburn nobody wanted or needed".Starts after Bridgerton season one. Trying to merge the series and elements of "To Sir Phillip, with love" together.
Relationships: Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane, Phillip Crane/Marina Thompson
Comments: 114
Kudos: 195





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to a lovely moodboard someone made for this fic: https://tmblr.co/ZAs12vZhDU8Bqa00.

**_February 1814, two months before the start of Eloise’s first season._ **

‘Eloise, I’ve been thinking about going to Gloucestershire’, Penelope announced.

She knew her mother wouldn’t approve, especially now that money was tight. Her only hope rested with Eloise, yet she knew that it would be hard for her to convince Eloise.

‘What’s in Gloucestershire?’ Eloise asked with a frown, popping in another bonbon.

‘Marina.’

‘What?’ Eloise asked, righteously confused.

‘Well, it’s just… It’s been so long, you know? And I worry for her. She was so devastated when she left.’

‘My brother was devasted when she left too. Or did you forget that? How she almost trapped him into a marriage? She lied to his face, or at least wilfully neglected to tell him that she was with child. My brother loved her. He still hasn’t come back from Greece. And he’s a worthless correspondent, we barely receive a letter every month and a half!’ Eloise raged, sitting up straight.

Penelope knew that. She knew the exact number of days. Some days she wondered whether she’d saved him by making Marina’s situation known, or whether she had shattered his heart so much it couldn’t be fixed again. Her selfishness had ruined so many lives. She’d ostracized her own family from society, ruined her own and her sisters’ prospects, had almost caused Marina to be sent to the poorhouse together with her child and had made Colin desperately unhappy. And all of that because she was jealous.

‘Eloise…’

‘No. How awful was she? If you love someone… You shouldn’t keep secrets from them! Especially not secrets like that. She could have at least been honest. But no, she hid it from everyone, even from your family. I don’t get why you’re not angry. Your entire family was ruined by her actions. You were sent away from the queen’s garden party! Isn’t it queer how you had and a servant and a guest both secretly pregnant outside of marriage in your home? Well, at least your servant was honest about it…’

Eloise paused, looking back at her friend.

‘No. No. Pen. Tell me you did not use the _“I know a person”_ thing to discuss someone we both knew? Tell me that we have not discussed Marina the entire time we were discussing this pregnant servant?’

Penelope paused. Her friend was always quick of mind.

‘You knew? You knew! Oh my god, it _was_ Marina. And you were going to let her marry Colin? And here I thought no one knew until Lady Whistledown did.’

‘I wasn’t going to let her marry Colin!’ Penelope bit. ‘I tried telling him.’

‘And if you knew… you couldn’t have been the only one. That means everyone knew. I fully believe Mrs. Featherington to be mercenary enough to hide it and get her charge married. But from you? No. Which means… anyone in your house could have leaked it to Lady Whistledown. Anyone except for you, your sisters and your mother, of course. You wouldn’t have been so foolish, knowing the consequences of such a scandal’, Eloise rattled on. Penelope did not even try to stop her. Once Eloise started analysing and ranting, you could only ride it out.

Penelope’s cheeks burned with guilt.

Marina had made Penelope so angry on the night of the discovery of the forged letter. And like an angry child she had lashed out with her most powerful tool, her pen, not even minding the consequences. She still hated Marina for her condescending speech, but most of all she hated herself for being angry and exacting vengeance for a speech that had contained nothing but truth. Marina's words had cut so deep because Penelope knew them to be true. Colin did see her as a sister and Marina as a wife. Meanwhile Marina liked Colin and had been acting out of helplessness, to protect her unborn baby. She had been selfless, and Penelope? She had been selfish. And cruel.

‘You know, I really admired Lady Whistledown. She was… an aspiration. To just pick up the pen and become wildly successful? To call things out for what they are, I admire that. She critiqued people and was a bit mean sometimes, but I admit I had to laugh at her humour more than I paused at the consequences of her words. Even as she wrote off my sister at the beginning of last season and it resulted in Daphne having virtually no suitors left except that horrid Berbrooke. But that column about Marina? That was more than a scathing comment about a debutante losing attention. If it hadn’t been for Daphne and our general good standing we would have been looked down upon as well. I don’t care much that the scandal might influence my coming out. I don’t care for marriage. But my sisters? My brothers? They all want to wed. I hoped that since she could break reputations, she could also make them. I even protected her, you know? The queen had set up a trap for her. You know how much effort you got to go through to that the queen of England wants to catch and reveal you? But I warned her. I thought it would be a shame if one of the few free women we have who make their voices heard, would be caught. But I do not admire her nearly as much anymore. She ruined people, Pen. She ruined _you_ ’, Eloise ended her speech. Her eyes shone with compassion for all the people hurt by Lady Whistledown.

It spoke volumes of Eloise’s kindness and ethics that she protected a free woman despite vehemently disagreeing with her. To Eloise there was no greater crime than attacking and ruining her friends and family.

 _I ruined me_ , Penelope thought miserably.

‘I admit that column was harsh. And I could have done without the consequences. And it is kind of Marina’s fault. Because if she hadn’t become pregnant, hadn’t hidden it and hadn’t tried to marry Colin, Whistledown couldn’t have reported it’, Penelope sighed.

Eloise nodded, putting away the box of bonbons. So emotional was she still that the thought of eating was revolting to her.

‘But Marina… She’s not as guilty as you believe. Or at least, she shouldn’t be blamed as much.’

Eloise raised her eyebrows expectantly.

‘Marina was in love, very much so, with a man called George. And she didn’t plan to get pregnant, but she did. She only found out when he had left. She held out for him while her father wanted her to marry someone. It was only when so many weeks had passed without an answer from him that she feared he, like so many other men, had used her ill, and washed his hands of her now that she was ruined. She needed to marry before her condition became known, or she and we would be ruined. Worse, if she didn’t marry and got a child, she would be out on the streets. No one would take a single woman with child in. So she and the child would starve. She had to marry, for the child. Her eye fell on Colin, I told her not to, but he was pursuing her. She liked him, time wasn’t on her side, she picked the one man who she believed could like her and care for her and the baby. She felt that she had to make sure her child would be cared for, and had to ignore ethics.’

Eloise was, for once, silent.

‘Well, I can’t pretend like that wouldn’t have happened’, Eloise muttered, looking none too pleased. ‘To be honest this is just one more example in which a woman gets punished while a man walks free. So he is somewhere, completely unharmed by the scandal, while she must sell herself into marriage or end up on the street because of his child. Men should be forced to marry the women they get pregnant. Then all her actions would have been unnecessary, and both her and my brother would have been spared the heartache. Where is she now? She disappeared rather suddenly.’

‘She uhm… married. Even here in London. But it wasn’t in the papers. They didn’t want to draw attention to it, didn’t think people would want to read it either.’

‘Who would want to marry her though? Her situation was public knowledge. He must be very kind, rescuing a woman from poverty, risking that if the child is a boy, his inheritance goes to a boy who isn’t his’, Eloise reasoned.

‘Sir Phillip Crane. He is George’s brother. Your sister managed to contact someone from the military, who in turn contacted Sir Phillip. The man came to our house one morning with the news that his brother had died, but he was willing to help her. He also gave her a letter George was working on but hadn’t been able to send before he died. He was going to marry her so they could have their child together.’

‘Oh my. Gods, that’s truly a tragedy of Greek proportions’, muttered Eloise.

‘She’s had a really rough year. Last time I saw her she was very unhappy. They must have had the child by now. I just want to see her to check if she’s okay. Mother won’t let me go. Not when there’s all this business with father’s heir and money and so on.’

There wasn’t a day that went by that Penelope didn’t think of her with tremendous guilt. Marina had trusted her like a friend. Had always told her everything whenever she asked a question and had been kind to her when her mother was mean to her. And the one time she had been mean to Penelope she had apologized to Penelope for everything, she had repented. She had even wished Penelope luck with Colin. She felt like a monster for treating such a poor desperate girl by pushing her even deeper into the ground. Penelope needed Marina to be okay after all the damage she had done. She had to know Marina had discovered, because she didn’t deserve to be miserable.

‘You’re such a good and kind friend, Pen. You know, I do hate that she made me lose my brother, but he’ll get over it. I’ll forgive her for her desperate act. If you can forgive her for the damage she’s done to your family, I have no reason to hold a grudge. That girl has been the victim of circumstance and after how Whistledown has ruined her, I’m sure she’ll be very happy to see there are some people still wanting to visit her. She must take great heart from a visit of you.’

Penelope just about managed to keep herself from cringing.

‘Yeah. But the thing is, I can hardly go alone, can I? With everything.’

‘I gathered as much. I don’t know her, and I don’t know that Sir Whatever but I’ve never seen Gloucestershire. I’ll never say no to a trip to a new place. I’m sure it’ll be fun. And with any luck, we’ll miss the start of the season.’

‘Are you using my trip to delay your execution?’ Penelope laughed.

‘No. But it would be nice’, Eloise sighed.

She looked down at her hemline that now reached until her feet. Her mother had bought her almost an entire wardrobe. And the few pieces she held from the years before had been altered so they now had ribbons and ruffles between where her skirts and coats used to end and where they ended now, with an added piece of fabric.

‘So when do you want to go?’ Eloise asked to divert the topic.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Romney Hall, late February 1814._ **

Romney Hall was a Jacobean construction, Marina informed them. The building was erected in red brick with white limestone details on the sides of the towers and walls and white balconies and window decoration. The inside was dark, despite the many windows.

Marina had welcomed them just an hour earlier, and although she had not smiled, she did seem happy to receive them. It had been awkward at first, with Eloise being Colin’s sister and all. But Eloise managed to quickly put those concerns off the table.

_‘He’s happily enjoying the sun in Greece. His last letter was nothing short of an ode to the country. I do believe he’s happy’, Eloise had said._

_Marina had nodded._

_‘Good. I’m happy for him. He… deserves to be happy.’_

_‘I hope we’re not your first visitors’, Penelope had laughed in an attempt to turn the topic away then._

_‘Who else would visit me? My friends from home are far away, my father hates me now, and everyone from London avoids me’, she’d answered coldly. ‘But it’s good of you to come. You’ve always been kind to me.’_

_So when she next asked Penelope and Eloise whether they wanted to rest a bit before supper, both girls had insisted there was no need for it. They wanted to be the best and most social guests for her._

No, it was much better now, as she showed them around. Despite the fact that Marina had never shown anyone around the house, she did do a fine job of it.

They paused at the gallery filled with paintings of Crane baronets.

‘And this is the old Sir Crane’, Marina explained, giving some of his accomplishments. ‘We still need to alter the frame, add a date of death’, Marina mused. ‘Hadn’t thought of that before.’

‘Oh, is he dead?’ Eloise asked, a stupid question really. One couldn’t add a date of death before one was dead.

‘He died two weeks after news arrived of George’s death. He was very distraught.’

Marina’s lips twisted in a way that made Eloise burn to know what she wasn’t telling.

‘He must have loved George a lot’, Penelope said, interpreting Marina’s frown as sadness.

‘Yes. _Him_ , he loved a lot. He was very sorry to lose him.’

The mystery thickened. Why this emphasis on George?

She looked down at the ground as she continued, pausing in front of two young boys.

‘And these are George and Phillip’, she explained.

Eloise paused in front of it. One had blond hair and blue eyes and looked tall and proud, while the other with his dark hair almost blended into the background. She could relate, she looked awful in most family portraits too. She studied the boys. This husband of Marina must be terribly sad. He had lost his brother and his father within two weeks of each other. Even now, a decade later, Eloise still missed her father. The influence of his presence still lingered in their home, from the way Anthony had torn away from them and tried acting like a more distanced fatherly figure, to how many times he popped up in conversation. Eloise was barely used to his absence. The thought of losing one of her siblings was just unbearable. She refused to even imagine it.

‘Which one is which?’ Eloise asked.

Marina frowned. ‘Right, you haven’t met them. The blond one is George. The next portrait of him is bigger’, she said, a small smile growing as she moved forward.

Her hand tenderly touched her pendant with a lover’s eye around her neck.

‘It was made for his twenty-fifth birthday. It was going to be used as his official portrait once he succeeded his father.’

‘Doesn’t the other one have a portrait?’ Eloise asked.

Her mother always had all children painted at regular intervals. She couldn’t imagine ending up in the Bridgerton gallery at home as only a child in a group picture, Anthony being the only one with an adult portrait.

Marina ignored Daphne. ‘And here will be mine, with the children.’

‘Children?’ Penelope asked, eyes growing.

‘Are you pregnant again already? Oh Marina that’s –‘ the look in Marina’s eyes silenced Penelope.

‘No. I’m not. I had twins.’

‘Twins! Oh, that’s wonderful. Congratulations’, Penelope said instead.

Marina gave a tired smile. She hadn’t yet addressed the children before, and they hadn’t wanted to pry. They supposed they would meet them at some point. All mothers seemed to be absolutely obsessed with their brood, they had fully expected her to show her children before the day was over.

‘What are they called?’ Penelope asked.

‘Amanda and Oliver. Named after his mother and grandfather.’

‘Their names are lovely’, Penelope agreed.

They sounded perfectly bland if one asked Eloise. But she knew better than to comment on such a thing, so she just nodded along.

‘They’re sleeping now. I wish they would sleep during the night. They are a terror.’

Eloise blinked, that was the first time she’d heard someone talk about their children in anything less than the highest terms. Children were always described as perfect angels. A lot of horse crap, Eloise had grown up with six other children. She’d been a child herself. They were absolute monsters.

Eloise looked away from the paintings, gazing through the window. She noticed a huge greenhouse. There were lights burning inside. She admired the servants still working away at this time of day.

‘I’ll show you the rooms where we receive guests now. You know, I don’t understand why people must have so many drawing rooms and sitting rooms. At home we just had the one where everyone sat together when we received guest’, Marina explained. She showed them the drawing room of the lady of the house, the study, the library, and the closed door to the sitting room of the men.

‘Not that Phillip ever goes there. He spends all his time outside’, she sighed.

‘I don’t understand why he’d want that. Even when it was freezing and snowing he was outside most hours. I’m a country girl but he really missed a career as a farmer. Give me a book and company indoors and I’m happy.’

Penelope shot Eloise a concerned look as Marina walked on.

She didn’t sound happy.

‘And this is the dining room. We always eat at eight, so you still have some forty minutes to freshen up. I’ll lead you to your bedrooms.’

They were put in bedrooms right beside each other. They didn’t look too modern, but they were excellently furbished and of high quality. Eloise begrudgingly put on one of her new frocks, its only redeeming qualities being that it was lavender and had a relatively high neckline. If it had just been Penelope and Marina she would have just kept her hair loose, she still had a mind to, but she decided to do the mature thing and put her hair up.

As she got ready her hand itched to write. The carriage ride and new house had given her poetic inspiration. But there was no time, she could write tonight.

By the time Penelope and Eloise descended, despite them being two minutes late, Marina still hadn’t arrived. Which was awkward, given that who could only be her husband was already pacing up and down the dining room.

Eloise noticed that from the back, he was not so different from her brother, tall and broad of shoulder, with thick brown hair. But his posture was far from as graceful as theirs.

‘Oh. Uhm. You are her guests’, he reasoned, straightening his jacket.

‘Yes. Penelope Featherington, we met?’ Penelope asked, deciding that since Marina couldn’t introduce them it was best that she did.

‘Yes. I do remember you’, he replied with a hesitant smile.

Eloise had never entered a house where laughter was more rare. What a dreary place this was. But then again there was little reason for them to be joyful. They were both still wearing black for his brother and his father. He had been forced to marry for duty, and she for her child. Still, it was very odd.

‘This is my friend, Miss Eloise Bridgerton.’

Eloise nodded.

‘Eloise, this is Sir Phillip Crane.’

‘How do you do?’

‘Alright. Thank you. Our trip was good, roads a bit bumpy but that was to be expected with all the recent rain and snow turning the roads to mud. Marina just showed us around, she’s a very good hostess’, Eloise rattled, wanting to break through the awkwardness.

But it appeared her speech had the opposite effect, rendering Sir Phillip who had been able to perform the traditional polite questions and remarks quite the mute.

He blinked.

‘Yes. She has not had a lot of opportunity to host. It is good of you to come. She could use the conversation and support. She’s had a hard time ever since the children… well. Parenthood takes some getting used to.’

‘We’re glad to be here’, Penelope replied.

‘My mother was always bone tired the first few months after having a child. She had eight, you know? She was always happy to have friends over to distract her a bit. I uhm. I don’t know where I was going with this again. Oh, yes. Knowing how much good some company can do when one just had a new baby, I’m glad to be here.’

Despite that it hadn’t been her main reason for coming, she did find herself growing more worried for the girl. She’d arrived not very confident she’d be able to muster kindness for the young woman who had hurt her brother, but she could not help but feel for her circumstances. Her sister was just pregnant, she could not imagine Daphne going through being a new mother all alone without anyone coming by to support her. It seemed cruel.

‘Eight?’ Sir Phillip asked.

Eloise had to keep in her annoyance. How was that the thing of her entire speech he had decided to focus on? He was so slow.

At that moment Marina arrived.

‘Oh, you’re here already.’

‘It’s ten past already’, Phillip pointed out.

‘Oh who cares about some ten minutes?’ Marina smiled, turning to her guests.

‘Sit, sit. I see you already did the introductions.’

Eloise sat down beside Penelope. Her eye fell on Marina’s necklace, and with shock she realized that either that was the worst impression of Sir Phillip’s eye, or Marina was still wearing the portrait of George. Given the blond eyebrow, the latter was probably true. That meant Sir Phillip was looking right into the eye of his deceased brother hanging around his wife’s neck every time he ate with her.

‘Are your rooms alright?’

‘They are perfect’, Penelope assured her.

‘Good.’

‘Mm, food smells delicious’, Penelope said as the servants came in.

That managed to get a smile from Marina.

‘Yes, the food is very good here.’

The servants revealed the food. The soup was perfect and thick, ideal for a cold day, but the main course…

Mutton. It just had to be mutton stew. On the bright side there were mashed potatoes and many lovely grilled vegetables dripping with butter and graciously sprinkled with pepper. Eloise focussed on those, and pushing in a bite of stew every ten minutes out of politeness.

Marina tried leading the conversation, asking everyone after their day and sharing something about a melancholy philosopher she’d read. But only Penelope knew him.

So Eloise allowed them to continue their conversation and decided to engage this Sir Phillip, who was quietly eating his food.

‘I saw a greenhouse outside. Is that where the vegetables come from, Sir Crane?’ Eloise asked.

The man didn’t reply.

‘Sir Crane? Sir Crane?’

It was only when she waved at him that he looked up. ‘Oh right, me. What did you ask, Miss Bridgerton?’

Eloise would have laughed if it hadn’t been so sad. Anthony had also taken a long time to get used to being the viscount. And right now Eloise had to bite her tongue to correct him that she was Miss Eloise. She was Miss Bridgerton now that Daphne was married.

‘Whether the vegetables came from the greenhouse?’

‘Oh, yes. Well, the carrots are. They were quick to grow. The greenhouse is still quite new, you see. I only built it when we came to live here.’

‘You built it?’

‘I… Well. I had workmen helping me. So I can’t take the credit. It was only finished just in time for the winter, in November.’

Helping him meant he had done some of the building himself. She appraised his shoulders anew. She couldn’t imagine any of her brothers making their hands dirty in such a way. They were too polished for it.

‘Oh. Well, it looks impressive to be built so fast.’

‘Oh… Well. Thank you’, he smiled.

‘Talking about the greenhouse, the roses are coming along nicely’, Sir Phillip tried to start the conversation. ‘At this rate you’ll be the first lady to have roses in her home. They’ll be ready for plucking at the start of March. You liked red roses, didn’t you, Marina?’ Phillip asked his wife.

Marina paused her conversation with Penelope, giving her husband a smile. 

‘Yes. I like roses.’

Phillip then started talking about how the roses were grown, expanding about the breed and how they had been coming along, and the pruning, and all kinds of things Eloise had never considered were necessary or important to growing flowers.

The table quieted, listening to him talk. She could see Marina’s tiredness growing into impatience, and then annoyance, before finally, she snapped.

‘I like roses but Phillip, you know none of us have a clue what you talk about. Can’t you talk about something else for once?’ Marina asked, exhaustion heavy in her voice.

Sir Phillip deflated, and Eloise could not help but feel for him. It was not fair that his interests were crushed so harshly. It hit too close to home, especially since she was so often ridiculed for her interests.

‘The stew is really delicious’, Penelope said, trying to save dinner.

Although the conversation moved on, the awkward atmosphere remained.

After dinner everyone sat together in an emerald drawing room with a blazing fireplace. Eloise admired the heavy woodwork in the room. It looked really rural and old, giving it a gothic atmosphere. She admired that, the Bridgerton houses were very refined and recent, with high ceilings and pale pastels. It fit Marina and Phillip.

‘Pen, I never asked, do you play?’ Marina asked.

‘Oh, a little’, Penelope stammered, eying the piano with fear.

‘Want to play a quatre mains? It’s been so long.’

‘Sure’, Penelope agreed, moving over to the piano with Marina.

The song they chose was cheerful, and succeeded in wiping the weariness off Marina’s face.

The song ended and Marina proposed another, but they were hardly a minute in when the maid arrived, announcing the children had woken up.

Marina struck a bad note and looked up.

‘The wetnurse?’

‘They have been fed. But you know, it is their time of day.’

Marina nodded, looking at Penelope.

‘You want to meet them?’

‘Oh, I don’t want to push. But I would be happy to see them.’

Marina asked the maid to bring them down. Two maids appeared a short while after, each carrying a baby wriggling in their arms. They reminded Eloise of Gregory and Hyacinth, they had also been fuzzy. Marina accepted one of them, pressing them against her pale pink dress with deeper pink flowers.

‘This is Amanda’, Marina said, introducing two month old baby with black hair and brown eyes. ‘And that’s Oliver’, she said, nodding at the dark haired other baby currently pulling on the lapels of Sir Phillip’s waistcoat.

Penelope cooed at the baby.

‘She’s very beautiful. She looks like you.’

‘I’m afraid my looks were quite dominant’, Marina said, frowning at her daughter. ‘I’d hoped they might take after… Oh well.’

But they all understood her meaning. Her mother had also loved the aspects of her children most that they had inherited from their father.

‘Oliver has his eyes though’, she said. Eloise shuffled a bit closer to Sir Phillip, noticing the child indeed had blue eyes, with which he was observing everything.

‘They have his temper though’, Phillip said, laying the child down on the couch. He looked down at Oliver, leaning on the couch with one arm and tenderly brushing Oliver’s hair with his free hand.

‘And what is that?’ Eloise asked.

Sir Phillip only smiled at the child, not even looking up.

Eloise took heart out of the fact that despite not being the real father of the children, he was obviously fond of them. Most men would have been very angry about becoming the legal father of children that weren’t theirs. Especially if one of them was a boy and would inherit his estate. But she supposed the case was a bit different since the children were his brother’s, and his brother was supposed to be the one inheriting anyway. 

‘They’re very bold, loud and adventurous.’

‘A sturdy baby is a good thing’, Penelope said.

‘Mother once said we would have had a sister, but she died within a couple of days. Very frail, she said. But they still look so tiny and frail, despite that their voices are able to cut through stone. I barely dare to touch them sometimes’, Phillip admitted.

Eloise suddenly had a vivid flashback to Hyacinth’s birth and how Colin, who had just started his growth spurt in width and height, tried to hold her with his awkward long limbs.

‘Don’t talk about dying in their presence. I don’t want to jinx anything’, Marina whispered, voice passionate as she held Amanda closer.

‘They’re all I have left of him.’

‘We have left’, Phillip corrected.

Eloise and Penelope shot each other a look.

‘Do you want to hold her?’ Marina asked of Penelope.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t know how’, she stammered. ‘But I’d like to.’

‘It’s easy, you hold your arm like so, and make sure you support their head’, Eloise explained, jumping over to put Penelope’s arms in the correct position.

‘If you’re not sure it’s better to sit down on the couch.’

‘I think I can handle it. Why do I support the head?’ Penelope asked as Marina tenderly put the child into Penelope’s arms.

‘Because they can’t support their head yet. Sir Phillip was right that babies are fragile. A new born kitten or fowl can walk around in a matter of minutes but human babies are delicate.’

‘Oh dear’, Penelope muttered, making sure she supported the head correctly. ‘Hello little one’, Penelope smiled.

‘Aren’t you a beauty. Yes, you’re going to be as beautiful as your mom.’

‘Not so beautiful anymore. You should have seen me two months ago. It’s a good thing I left London when I did, mere weeks after I started swelling like a pumpkin. I was tired all the time. Could barely move. I’m still tired. All the time. And they screech and wail at night, I don’t think I’ll ever lose the bags under my eyes. But at least I got back in shape. I thought I’d have to chuck out all my old dresses.’

‘You still look wonderful, Marina’, Penelope told her.

‘Some loss of sleep won’t make you look bad. Remember Lady Whistledown called you the true incomparable of the season. All those men who came to our house just to see you?’

‘Lady Whistledown can hang’, Marina growled, stalking over to the table to snatch her wine goblet.

‘What did those compliments matter? She only made my name important just so everyone knew who I was by the time she released that awful last column on me.’

‘It’s just empty gossip by someone with an abundance of time and a lack of useful pursuits’, Sir Phillip calmed his wife. ‘Nobody of substance attaches importance to gossip columns.’

All three women turned on Sir Phillip.

‘Then there mustn’t be a single person of substance in London. A bad word from Whistledown and my life was over, Phillip’, Marina pointed out. ‘That you don’t care for society doesn’t matter. Back there, everyone believed her words. ‘

‘London society is stupid. For heaven’s sake, only a tenth of the men in London could help in a harvest, replace a broken wheel or do their own accounts. They even need valets to dress. They live in a stupid bubble of self-importance while they’re not capable of anything but judging others.’

'That I cannot disagree with', Marina said. 'I am glad to be back in the country.'

Eloise, who felt that Phillip had called her without substance and had insulted Lady Whistledown as well, was next to attack.

‘Gossip is important in London. With or without a gossip column, people gossip. And if you have to navigate in those circles, you need to know the gossip or you can’t follow half of the conversations that are being held. Besides, there are plenty of stupider occupations with one’s time than writing. Like all these rich privileged men doing nothing but squandering time and money in gentlemen’s clubs where they do nothing but laugh, drink, smoke and lord-knows-what. She, for I am certain it is a she, is articulate, and clever and observant, and spends her time practising a profession women are not welcome in, providing society with the exact content they want. Women, women are made so useless by society. “Oh let’s go and visit a friend, oh, let’s have tea, oh yes, a dinner party. Oh, I’m bored, shall we make a walk or go riding in the carriage before going back home and writing letters to family members?” Why, it is because we can’t do anything else! We can’t work, we can’t study, we can’t do anything actually useful. She’s one of the few women who refuses to waste her time with such empty pursuits.’

Sir Phillip once again just blinked.

Eloise felt the heat creep to her cheeks. She’d said too much. Again. She wondered whether Marina and Sir Phillip ever exchanged as many words with one another in a day. They were both kind of quiet.

‘I know gossip is a currency, that doesn’t mean I approve of it or admire people encouraging others to indulge in so base a topic. As for what else you said, yes, society in London is filled with people with idle lives. Both men and women. I would not mind a woman finding a more useful pursuit than drinking tea. Just think of nuns women concerned with charity or even those women book clubs. If the woman is truly talented, she could use that talent to write something real. Obviously she, despite being a woman, has no issue getting things published.’

Eloise did not know what to answer to that. He was right. She frowned, filled with confusion. He was right and he had agreed with her. He didn’t even argue with the idea of a woman working.

‘Let’s not waste anymore breath on that woman. Eloise, do you want to hold Oliver?’

‘I’d be delighted.’

When they went to bed later that night, Eloise undressed and snuck into Penelope’s bedroom. To her absolute shock, her friend was crying.

‘Pen, are you okay?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine’, she said, smiling through the tears.

‘It’s just… She’s so unhappy. I thought perhaps things wouldn’t be wonderful, but I thought she’d be happy. She and her babies were saved, they would have a surname, they were taken care for, she’d even have a title, and she knew George had never abandoned her. And now she’d have his babies as a reminder of him. But she’s unhappy. She’s so unhappy.’

‘Well, she doesn’t have many reasons to be happy. If I lost my family, friends and freedom, I wouldn’t be cheered up because I was married’, Eloise said, sitting down beside Penelope on the bed. Marriage, to Eloise, had always sounded like a trap. A trap forced upon everyone whether they wanted to marry or not. And no two people she knew had ever looked more miserably trapped than Phillip and Marina.

‘For some reason, I’d tried telling myself that they would fit well together, and learn to love each other. They’re both very handsome. And he was very kind. I had hoped that they would help each other grieve, and find each other like that.’

‘But their grief makes them unable to connect. Marina is isolating herself just like Anthony did when father died. Did you notice the necklace she was wearing? That was the brother, not Sir Phillip. She doesn’t even allow him to get closer out of loyalty to his brother.’

‘I should have come sooner. No guests. No guests at all. Can you imagine how lonely they must have been since they married? Eight months and not a single guest for Marina.’

‘It is very sad. Whistledown really ostracized her. I’m sure my family would have forbidden me from coming too, if they knew I was going to visit a fallen woman. Just like yours forbid you.’

‘Wait. Then what did you tell your mother we were doing?’ Penelope asked.

‘Why, visiting a cousin of yours, of course. When voiced like that mother didn’t think I could be talking about Marina.’

‘Very clever, you were always so clever’, Penelope smiled, another fat tear rolling down her cheek.

‘I wish… Lady Whistledown had been kinder. It’s alright to tease. And to attack people who do bad things, you know? Like when a rake gambles a lot of fortune and then starts pursuing heiresses, it’s fine. Because he did it to himself. But Marina, it was just love. And if George hadn’t died, they would have married and have been very happy together. She was punished for something she had no control over.’

‘No control… You know, it only gets more confusing. First it isn’t between a husband and a wife anymore. Then my brother tells me if I’ve ever seen farm animals. Then people tell me it’s love, but plenty of couples don’t love each other and get children. It’s all quite confusing. You’re sure we can’t catch it if we have no control over it?’

Penelope huffed a laugh. ‘Oh Eloise, I shouldn’t say.’

‘You know? Pen, you can’t do this to me. You know! And you’re unmarried too. Tell me.’

‘When two people lay together, in bed, and touch each other, the woman can get pregnant. And sometimes, apparently, a couple needs to do that a lot to get a baby, and sometimes, one time even when neither wants to have a baby, is enough. It’s confusing and it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but that’s what Marina told me. Marina and George didn’t want a baby, not outside of marriage. But they really loved each other and wanted to, well, do that’, Penelope stammered, blushing.

‘Why would you do something that can cause a baby if you don’t want a baby?’

‘Eloise!’ Penelope cried, growing more uncomfortable. ‘I just said it, sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. They expected it wouldn’t happen, they took a gamble.’

‘But why gamble?’

‘I don’t know! Perhaps it must be nice! Just like kissing is nice, despite that it can ruin a woman, plenty of people kiss without an engagement. So why? I don’t know, because they wanted to! Can we drop it now, please?’ Penelope insisted.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’, Eloise said, knowing when she had pushed it too much.

Deeply confusing. Eloise shelved the information and went back to her room, opened her journal, and started scribbling.

The next day Marina, Eloise and Penelope sat in a pink drawing room, overlooking a frozen lake.

When Eloise enquired after it, Marina explained that it had been frozen over since the week the twins arrived in December and that yes, it was very thick ice indeed. She then went on to tell a story George had once told her of how he and Phillip had been so eager to go ice skating that they hadn’t waited long enough for the ice to fully freeze. Phillip had sank through and George had quickly rushed over to help his brother out, almost drowning himself. By the time they got to the edge of the lake, their father was waiting for them, ready to punish them for their recklessness.

‘And then, George said, he was actually glad he was so cold, because it had numbed his arse down so the beating didn’t hurt as much’, Marina laughed.

They all laughed, and laughed, and then Marina started crying. Little Oliver started crying as well, and the whole thing was a mess.

‘I’m sorry, little one’, Marina sobbed. ‘You’re my angel, you know, my very special angel. The only bit of your dada I have left. Because mommy was a stupid cow who burned his letters because she thought he had abandoned her.’

Marina buried her face in her baby’s shoulder.

Eloise rocked Amanda as she walked to the other side of the room, softly humming a lullaby to distract her from the crying while Penelope tried to comfort Marina.

No, this wasn’t a pleasant stay. But Eloise was glad she had come, as it was clear Marina was in dire need of support. She felt very guilty for hating Marina for half a year. And now, as she looked at the sad scene, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d married Colin instead. Colin was young, yes, but so was Sir Phillip. But unlike Sir Phillip, Colin was a chatterbox, easy to laughter, doing everything in life with gusto, be it eating, entertaining or sporting. And with the Bridgerton name, perhaps it would have been easier to rehabilitate her in London. She couldn’t help but think someone more social and joyful would have been a better remedy for her melancholy than Sir Phillip’s quiet awkwardness.

Marina went to bed to recover, and Penelope and Eloise remained behind with the children, drowning them in affection and attention until their eyes became bleary. Then they picked them up and carried them to the nursery to put them to bed.

Penelope went to her room to compose a letter for her mother, while Eloise decided to make maximum use of her time to explore freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lover’s eye was a very popular accessory that was basically a portrait of the eye of someone’s suitor, which was put into a necklace or bracelet. It was only an eye so the identity of the person remained anonymous. Marina wore such a necklace in the show sometimes. 
> 
> Marina had some moments of happiness in the show, but she was always quite serious and stressed behind closed doors, obviously due to her pregnancy and George’s absence. Now losing your loved one would be enough to get depressed, but given that she was then completely ostracized by society, probably cut off by her father due to the scandal, removed from the friends she had back home (I reason she lost her friends because of Sir Phillip saying in “To Sir Phillip, With Love” how she didn’t seem to have any friends). So if we count bereavement during pregnancy, having no close friends or family to support her, and a poor relationship with her partner (who is preoccupied with mourning his brother himself and they’re both not each other’s type of person), Marina basically has the perfect cocktail of circumstances for postnatal depression. I find her deeply sympathetic, but she can hardly be happy or reach out to others a lot when she’s so miserable. So she might treat Phillip poorly but she really just isn’t in a good spot to deal with him. So please, no Marina shaming.


	3. Chapter 3

With everything explored inside, Eloise can’t help but make her way to the yet unexplored outdoors. The _very_ cold outdoors.

Perhaps she better get back in, she wasn’t dressed for freezing temperatures. However, Eloise wouldn’t be Eloise if she gave up altogether. Instead, she decides, she will explore the greenhouse. Then she’d be outside, but not really.

There is a brief moment, right before she opens the door, when she doubts whether she should do it and invade a space she had not been welcomed into, but a second later the door is closed behind her and she’s inside.

‘It’s so warm!’ Eloise exclaims. It is almost as warm as the drawing room, and the air is seeped with moisture.

‘It’s actually warmer than this, usually,’ Sir Phillip’s voice calls out.

Eloise gives a very undignified shriek when the man appears from between a couple of plants. He wasn’t even wearing a coat or jacket, his sleeves were rolled up, hands covered in dirt.

‘The glass allows the sun to warm the air, but the past few days it was quite overcast.’

‘Oh my, I’m invading. Aren’t I? I’m putting my nosy nose in stuff where it shouldn’t be,’ Eloise stammered.

She’d never seen a man who wasn’t a family member undressed like that, and she suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She had to admit he was handsome in a very different way than his brother, or hers. His brown hair was too long, and he had a sort of careless air about him that not many men in London would have should they encounter a lady in such a state. He was rougher, she decided. Then she felt guilty for even thinking he was handsome.

‘Nosy nose’, Phillip repeated. ‘You’re free to explore’, he shrugged. ‘But if you consider plucking something, do ask me first.’

‘Will do, captain’, she said, making a military salute, and then quickly put her hand down after realizing that was in poor taste given his brother died in the peninsular wars. Her damned mouth, she wished she would think before she talked. Oh God, she hoped Daphne and Anthony never heard her admit that, she wouldn’t hear the end of it.

‘I apologize. So, what is it you do here?’

‘I grow plants.’

‘Isn’t that a gardener’s job?’

‘The gardener takes care of the gardens outside. I have some vegetables here, as you guessed last night, and some flowers. This is mainly my botanical garden.’

‘Oh’, Eloise nodded, looking around and noticing the meticulous perches containing different kinds of plants.

‘And what is that exactly?’

‘It’s a garden aimed at collecting, cultivating and preserving a wide array of plants. I plan on adding one outdoors as well, focussing my indoor garden on more exotic plants that need heat and moisture.’

‘And how is that different from a normal garden? I mean, I hope I’m not sounding stupid here, but I’ve seen some pretty nice gardens. And most of the owners boasted about their collection of beautiful plants.’

Sir Phillip took a step forward and sat down on his haunches in front of a plant.

‘Do you know at what you’re looking, when you’re in such a garden?’

‘Flowers? I don’t know, I can tell what some are, I recognize roses and dandelions and sunflowers and such.’

‘There’s dozens and dozens of breeds of roses. Rose is a very broad term.’

Eloise shrugged. ‘I can tell a rose from a primrose and other such. Why?’

‘In a botanical garden, you shall never mistake the plant you are observing’, he explained, beckoning Eloise to come closer.

‘All plants are labelled with their true Latin names. Because these gardens are mostly meant for research. That way people can practice plant taxonomy or another botanical science. It makes it a great deal easier to know what plant one is dealing with when one tries to describe and study one. The concept started in Italy, some two centuries ago, at universities. Professors used it to teach their students, and the students could research plants easily, and learn to care for them. It was very useful for the development of medicine. There are quite a few admirable gardens, like the exotic gardens in Kew. That’s in London in fact, you could easily visit it. But I admit, it sounds a bit stupid to have a botanical garden out here, where the only person who can study it is me. Especially since I’ll never work for a university. And no one around is interested in plants. But it keeps me busy, I suppose’, he said as he tenderly touched the plant before rising.

A fellow academically inclined person? Eloise approved of that.

‘I’m sorry, I must bore you. I know I bore my wife, I don’t really have my brother’s talent for easy conversation. Are you interested? In plants?’

He looked so hopeful and lonely that she didn’t want to say she wasn’t.

‘I tried planting roses this year. Daphne, my sister, got so many of them, whole rooms full. But they always wilt so fast, you know? Flowers don’t seem to wilt so fast when they’re growing outside. I thought some roses would vastly improve our rather empty patch of grass we call a garden in London. And then we could look outside and see perfect flowers every time, instead of filling the house with ones that would start drooping within a week. I utterly botched it though. No green fingers.’

‘It’s a lot harder to care for roses than most people think.’ When Sir Phillip looked at her and smiled, there was an air of shyness to it, as if he weren’t quite used to smiling at women.

‘Besides butchering roses, what is it that interests you?’ he asked.

‘Poetry, literature’, she shrugged, knowing it wouldn’t be admired.

‘I have a friend who studied languages and literature. He’s teaching now’, he supplied. It was the only link he could provide to her topic of interest. He had no direct knowledge of the topic himself beyond what was taught in the schoolroom.

‘I would chop off a limb to go to university!’ Eloise groaned, her whole body shuddering as if to underline the gravitas of her desire. She looked at him. ‘Scold me if you want, I’m past the point of caring for judgement. I know what men think of studying.’

She walked on, past tiny seedlings sprouting up from the dark dirt and some bright green stalks tied to small wooden poles.

‘I don’t judge you at all. When you’re interested in something you want to know as much about it as humanly possible. I could have spent a lifetime studying’, Sir Phillip admitted.

‘Why don’t you? You can. You’re a man. You can do anything you like. We can’t.’

He cringed, that stung. 

‘No we don’t. We have more possibilities, I’ll admit but there’s not a thing in my life I’ve chosen beyond my studies. I went to Cambridge and studied botany but I had to quit my studies when I married. I couldn’t even take my June exams because I was too busy with my father’s death and taking over the management of Romney Hall. Nothing was prepared for his death, it was unexpected. Probably the shock of hearing his heir died. And I wasn’t raised as an heir, so I had not a clue of what to do.’

Eloise turned around, laden with guilt.

All this time she’d been envying men, forgetting their choices could be limited as well. They had duties and expectations too. Her brothers were just experts at shirking it, except for Anthony, because he couldn’t as the heir. Although he had avoided the duty of finding a wife thus far.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t say sorry. It’s no one’s fault, it’s just life. Fundamentally unfair. No one asks for their lot.’

‘Preach.’

‘But you, you can do whatever you want with your days. You don’t have any obligations, do you?’

She blinked. She’d always seen her life as something to be endured, not something to be envied. But in his eyes she must have it easy. Unlike him she didn’t have any duties, wasn’t forced to marry anyone, wasn’t mourning a sibling, wasn’t suddenly thrust into the roles of spouse and parent. That definitely put things into perspective.

‘No.’

‘Why not use that time to do what you like then? Before life happens and takes that time away.’

Eloise swallowed. She’d always feared marrying. Because it seemed to her she had to just because it was expected and the only thing a woman of her rank could do in life. She was afraid that at some point she would be married to someone she didn’t care for, moving away from her beloved siblings and mother, having to be a mother and an estate manager and whatever her husband expected of her, proper, busy and bland. She wouldn’t be allowed to do as she pleased. Twenty-one was the reasonable age until which she could go without marrying, twenty-three was severely pushing it. She felt like she was rushing towards an expiration date of her freedom and had no way to stop it.

At twenty-one, she was supposed to be married. Trapped in a good match with a wealthy husband who would expect her to be the perfect little wife she could never be. And here Phillip was, exactly twenty-one, just as trapped in a marriage with expectations he couldn’t live up to because he wasn’t his brother. _But he had a taste of absolute freedom only men can have,_ an envious voice whispered in her head.

‘I can’t. Women can’t go to university.’

‘Doesn’t mean you can’t study’, he shrugged.

‘You too, whether you did your exams or not’, she shot back.

‘I will. I’m even planning on taking my exams this year. Everything is finally getting settled now. So I might take some evenings off to study and take my exams a year late. I really wanted that degree, useless as it is.’

Oh no, he wouldn’t minimalize the dreams she had for herself. Not when he could achieve them. He should be happy.

‘It’s not useless. You’re using it right now’, Eloise defended.

‘I am’, he admitted with a smile as he pulled some rotten leaves from a plant with glimmering dark green leaves.

She looked at him between the greenery, considering that perhaps this was a safe space to him. He was living her nightmare. Trapped in marriage and unable to do what he loved. But he defied her bleak outlook. As horrible as his life seemed, he was still able to do something he loved. 

‘Is it hard, doing university exams?’ she found herself asking.

‘It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘You ask a lot of questions.’

‘As my host, it’s impolite not to answer them.’

‘To demand answers is generally deemed impertinent.’

‘That’s kind of what I’m known for, so such a comment doesn’t hurt me.’

‘It depends on the topic. You must have learned some things as well, right? Arithmetic, languages?’

‘Yes.’

‘Some you probably found easier to learn than others.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, there are exams I am good at, because the topic suits me better, than others.’

‘That makes sense, I suppose.’

‘So that was what you wanted then, to study?’ she found herself asking, knowing she had to be careful now.

‘I would have probably tried to become a professor, if my brother hadn’t died’, he replied.

‘I can’t imagine what it’s like, losing a brother. It would be like losing a limb’, it was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

‘Like losing a crutch. I’d leant on him like a crutch. He protected me, and encouraged me to do what I wanted. He was made for being the eldest brother, he could do the whole society thing, make conversation, and so on. He would have known what to do if father died. I’m just making it up as I go along.’

‘I know what that feels like. I had regular fights with Daphne, she’s older than me. Yeah, perhaps for future reference I should mention that we’re named alphabetically. So if someone has a name with a letter before ‘E’, they’re older than me. So Daphne was the oldest girl, and she’s just… perfect. Prim and proper and ready to be everything a girl’s raised for. And I’m anything but. She said that her success and the way society perceived her, would pave the way for how all the following sisters would be perceived. I am ever so relieved I wasn’t born the oldest. I would have stepped on a million toes and made the Bridgerton name universally hated.’

‘You’ll manage, you haven’t stepped on any toes yet, at least not around here. Just like Romney Hall hasn’t come crumbling down despite my father telling me the building would rather tear itself down than suffer me as its owner for more than half a year.’

‘That’s rude.’

‘My father was a charming man. Let’s leave it at that he was stressed that he had to teach his second son how to go from spare to heir.’

Eloise wondered whether her mother would be as happy to have a season for Eloise as she had for Daphne. She wondered whether she could ever accept her role as a debutante with the same grace as Daphne did.

‘And how is it, going from spare to heir? Did you learn to like being a baronet? Have you become used to it?’

She bit her lip, awaiting his answer. Could she ever grow into the role of being Miss Bridgerton after being Miss Eloise? Could she grow into the role of a wife?

‘It just… is… the way it is’, he said. ‘I don’t ask myself whether I like it. But one gets used to it. Everything takes getting used to.’

Not a satisfactory answer. Leave it to men to lack introspection.

‘I see’, Eloise said, without meaning. Well, if he could adapt to becoming a husband, a father and a baronet in seven months, she could at least become used to being Miss Bridgerton the debutante. She wouldn’t be weaker than a man.

She would never be a Daphne, but she could try not to muck it up too much.


	4. Chapter 4

**_“I will watch the ballrooms at home, to report to you, my dear reader, what you really care about, some innocent gossip._ **

**_Before the season officially starts, let’s look at some of our favourite stars of seasons past, and potential rising stars. One cannot blame This Author for looking at the Bridgerton family. Although the youngest son has yet to return from his European journey, the eldest two Bridgerton Brothers are already in London. And this year young Eloise, sister of the previous season’s Incomparable Miss Daphne Bridgerton, now Duchess Daphne Basset, is set to come out. Will she make a match as advantageous as her sister and tame a Rich Rake of her own, or does she have other plans? Time will tell._ **

**_LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 APRIL 1814”_ **

****

‘Eloise, have you seen what Lady Whistledown has written about you?’ Hyacinth asks with a grin.

‘Owh, don’t use my own words against me.’

‘Not so funny now, eh sister?’ Benedict laughed as he rubbed her hair.

‘Now watch Eloise doing something like tripping and ripping a curtain today, or worse, declaring for the whole court that women shouldn’t be presented like market ware right in front of the queen. Whistledown will have a field day’, Benedict grinned.

The children snickered and Eloise felt like she could die.

She really didn’t want to do her court presentation today. She positively feared the queen after their last conversation of the previous season.

‘If I needed any further proof that Lady Whistledown is some shelved spinster, her overt focus on young debutantes has by now made it clear’, Anthony decided.

‘Excuse me? How did you get that opinion?’ Eloise asked.

She’d considered servants, tradespeople, widows, but never single ladies.

‘Isn’t it obvious? She has heaps of time, clearly has no job, household or family to manage if you ask me. And a man would never be so focused on seeing people married.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘Eloise, aren’t you in bath yet?’ her mother demanded to know when she entered the blue drawing room.

‘It’s fine, I’ll be ready in time’, Eloise said.

Why did that make so much sense? Eloise needed to adjust her list of suspects.

‘Yes, you will be. Because you are on your way upstairs. Right now’, her mother said, raising her eyebrows.

‘But-‘

‘No but. You will allow us to doll you up one day. After this, you can relax. But it’s too important Eloise, think of your sisters. You must not ruin it for them today.’

Eloise was pretty sure that she’d already ruined the queen’s opinion of her the previous season, but she decided that the least she could do was to not give the queen any more reason to look down on her.

  


  


  


  


Eloise felt like a virgin sacrifice in her white gown. She was sure her hairpins were starting to push through her skin and her feet hurt in her new shoes. But she looked presentable, although she wasn’t a Daphne.

She watched other young girls being pushed forwards to be devoured by the stares of the public and the analytical gaze of the queen.

Right before her, two sisters were pushed forward. One had straight brown hair and dark eyes, and was obviously older, while the other one with her buttery-coloured hair and blue eyes, sparkled with the same youthful excitement her sister had exhibited the previous season. They marched forward, bending down.

And then, when they rose, the queen cocked her head to the side.

‘Which one of you is Katherine, and which one is Edwina?’

The brown haired girl stepped forward. ‘I’m Katherine, your grace, and this is Edwina.’

‘Edwina’, the queen said, ignoring the taller sister, ‘you show an air of grace I have not yet seen this season.’

The girl blushed prettily, curtsying and thanking the queen before both girls stepped back.

And just like that, the pressure was off for all other girls. The Incomparable was chosen.

Eloise was next. The queen just gave her a hard stare and a disinterested nod, barely acknowledging her.

Eloise retreated to the background. She watched the tall brunette sister, Kate Sheffield, who walked fast and was constantly fidgeting on the other side of the hall, hovering near her sister like a mother hen. Eloise decided right on the spot that she wanted to know and bond with another Incomparable’s sister.

  


  


‘Eloise Bridgerton’, Eloise introduced herself sometime later as she ended up in a circle of fellow debutantes, including the Sheffields.

‘Kate Sheffield.’

‘So, I hereby welcome you into the Incomporable’s Sister’s club’, Eloise smiled as they walked away from the group.

‘Thank you. Glad to join.’

‘Really?’

‘I’m glad for my sister, I was never Incomparable material.’

‘Nor I, but Daphne was’, Eloise laughed.

‘Oh yes, your sister married the Duke of Hastings, didn’t she? Their courtship was all over Lady Whistledown’s columns last year’, said.

‘You read Lady Whistledown?’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’ Kate asked back.

‘Kate tries to downplay it but she’s completely besotted with her. She reads every column at least twice’, Kate’s younger sister said, popping up beside them.

‘Weren’t you talking with some other girls your age?’ Kate asked.

‘But I’d rather be with you.’

‘Awh, that’s sweet’, Eloise couldn’t help but say.

‘Kate’s especially interested in what they say about the men.’

That earned Edwina a step on the foot of her sister. She was dignified enough to bite her lip instead of yelp.

‘A warned woman is worth her weight in gold. I take note of every rake she mentions and will not let any of them near my sister. And now that’s she dubbed the Incomparable I have no doubt they’ll be drawn to her like a moth to flames. We don’t have a brother, so I’ll be doing the protecting.’

‘A wise decision’, Eloise agreed.

‘She’s been practising her death stare for over fifteen years. Tonight she can finally unleash it at the Ashbourne ball. Will you come, Miss Bridgerton?’

‘I planned on going’, Eloise admitted.

‘You forget, dear sister, the Smythe-Smith musicale tonight is earlier than the ball. Will we see you there tonight, Miss Bridgerton?’ Kate asked.

‘Oh you won’t often see me there’, Eloise laughed. ‘No. My mother is planning her own musical soiree however. We don’t know yet how many people we can invite though. So I’m afraid I can’t extend an invite. Do enjoy though.’

  


  


  


  


‘What do you think Lady Whistledown will write about tonight?’ Kate asked of Eloise as she stood beside her and Penelope Featherington.

**“The colour yellow makes the dark-haired Miss Katharine Sheffield look like a singed daffodil.**

**_LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 13 APRIL 1814_ ** **”**

‘She’ll probably name three men unwilling to settle, your sister Edwina receiving a lot of attention, me being a disappointment after my sister’s season, and perhaps something about the food’, Eloise guessed.

‘Come now, she must also critique one of my family’s outfits and give two random names, saying they would be an interesting couple’, Penelope added.

Eloise giggled.

‘Oh Pen, you make these things bearable. I truly didn’t miss anything when you went and I stayed at home to read’, Eloise decided.

The three young women looked up when a handsome young blond man approached them. Penelope perched up.

‘Miss Sheffield?’

‘Yes?’

‘May I ask permission to dance with your sister?’

Kate frowned.

‘Does she want to dance with you?’

‘I don’t know. But she made it very clear she will only dance with someone once they’ve obtained her sister’s approval.’

‘I cannot agree to let anyone dance with my sister when I do not even know their name.’

‘Oh, right. I beg your pardon. It’s Sir Mason Matthews.’

‘Do you read, Sir Matthews?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s a simple question, do you read?’

‘Books?’

‘What else? Yes, books.’

‘Sometimes I do. When I studied.’

‘Tell her you can dance with her’, Kate decided.

The young man strode away, and Kate deflated.

‘She’s never going to marry him.’

‘Your sister requires a man who reads?’

‘She wants a scholar. That one there seemed to be functioning without a brain, despite biology claiming all of mankind must be in possession of one.’

Eloise laughed, looking at the dance floor. The ballroom was quite crowded, but not overly so. She remembered from Daphne’s harrowing accounts balls could be suffocating, and if the balls weren’t suffocatingly hot, then Anthony had been suffocating her by hovering around her, keeping every man at bay.

However, after half an hour of breathing down Eloise’s neck, during which Eloise rejected the request to dance of two pompous older men, Anthony decided Eloise was safe. Then he went away to fetch drinks only to never return. Her mother had stayed by her side for a while longer. But once Penelope arrived Lady Bridgerton decided she could trust the two friends to keep each other safe and had gone over to some other Mammas.

But right now, Eloise wondered whether her brother was in need of saving. She spotted him across the room, crowded by a horde of mothers and daughters.

No, she decided, Anthony had told everyone at home he planned to wed this year, he needed their presence around him.

It was not long before they were bothered again, this time by the slimy toad called Nigel Berbrooke.

‘Miss Penelope, Miss Bridgerton, Miss Sheffield’, he nodded.

‘Miss Sheffield, allow me to introduce myself, I’m Mr. Nigel Berbrooke.’

‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Berbrooke.’

‘I wondered if I could ask your sister to dance. She just looks so enchanting on the dance floor, I can’t help but want to dance as well. She looks like an angel in blue. It matches her eyes so well.’

Eloise stifled a chuckle. That man was desperate.

‘Oh’, Kate muttered.

Eloise shook her head behind Nigel Berbrooke’s back.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint, Mr. Berbrooke. My sister is already quite occupied this evening.’

‘Is she fully booked?’

‘Mr. Berbrooke, my answer is final’, Kate decided.

His hopeful face turned contemptuous before he slithered off.

‘He was awful to my sister last year, truly awful. He almost managed to strike a deal with Anthony behind her back, I’ve never seen her so desperate. Don’t let him anywhere near your sister.’

‘Leave it to a rake to have a poor taste in men’, Kate decided.

‘Anthony was too busy doing background checks to bother with personality’, Eloise explained. ‘He didn’t mean to make my sister unhappy.’

‘I should hope no one ever deliberately tries to make their sister unhappy’, Kate decided.

  


  


  


**_“The season has opened for the year 1814, and there is little reason to hope that we will see any noticeable change from 1813. The ranks of society are once again filled with Ambitious Mamas whose only aim is to see their Darling Daughters married off to Determined Bachelors. With the Duke of Hastings off the market, the Mamas have declared Viscount Bridgerton as this year’s most eligible catch. Indeed, if the poor man’s hair looks ruffled and windblown, it is because he cannot go anywhere without some young miss batting her eyelashes with such vigour and speed as to create a breeze of hurricane force. Perhaps the only young lady not interested in Bridgerton is Miss Katherine Sheffield, and in fact, her demeanour towards the viscount occasionally borders on the hostile.  
  
And that is why, Dear Reader, This Author feels that a match between Bridgerton and Miss Sheffield would be just the thing to enliven an otherwise ordinary season.  
  
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 13 APRIL 1814”_ **

****

‘Who even is Katherine Sheffield?’ Anthony demanded to know.

‘Really Anthony? You were at the court presentation where both she and her sister were introduced!’ Eloise sighed in exasperation. ‘You know, Katherine Sheffield, sister of this season’s so called Incomparable Edwina? You must have seen _her_ at least. Small, blonde hair, blue eyes, surrounded by a flock of stupid men?’

Anthony’s eyes flickered to Benedict and the newly returned Colin.

‘Why would Lady Whistledown think I’d marry her sister if she’s the Incomparable?’

‘She literally wrote it down, because she has no interest in you. Your reputation precedes you, brother dearest’, Eloise smiled.

‘Well, I don’t need her to like me. I won’t be marrying her. Her mother and her sister need to like me.’

‘Excuse me? What are you planning?’

‘I don’t need to explain myself to you.’

  


Eloise’s brothers would be the death of her. And of Kate as well, probably.

‘Post’, the butler announced.

All Bridgertons looked up.

‘Three letters for Lord Anthony, one letter for Mr. Benedict. And… A package, for Miss Eloise’, the butler explained.

‘A package?’ Eloise frowned, standing up from the couch where she’d been scribbling in her book until Anthony had started talking about the Whistledown column.

‘Yes, from ah… There’s no further signature than Crane on it, ma’am.’

Eloise perked up.

Since Penelope and she had returned after a two week stay, she knew Penelope and Marina had kept up a conversation by mail, but by the time they departed, Eloise had not been on good enough terms to keep up a correspondence with Marina. They were just too different in character and interests. But Penelope, being her cousin and being a good friend, had decided to start up a correspondence.

So she wondered why Marina had suddenly sent her something. And a package even! That must have been expensive to send.

Eloise opened the package. First was a letter, und underneath that, three books and a journal. She blinked.

‘What is it?’ Hyacinth asked.

‘Books’, Eloise explained.

Hyacinth deflated, having expected something more exciting.

‘Who is this Miss Crane?’ Benedict asked with an entirely too cheeky smile.

‘A cousin of Penelope whom we visited in February.’

‘You know this cousin very well then, for her to be sending you packages.’

‘Oh hush’, Eloise said, picking up her package and racing upstairs before unfolding the letter.

  


_‘Dear Miss Bridgerton,_

_  
Forgive me for writing, I know it is not the correct to write to an unmarried woman. But I took it upon myself to contact my old college friend and asked him whether he still had anything that could be of service to an amateur scholar. He was so kind as to send me his old belongings. Life is too short to not occupy oneself with the things one cares about. Should you be interested I’m happy to send up more, should you be unhappy with my contacting you, do let me know. I shan’t trouble you further._

_Kind regards,_

_Sir Phillip Crane”_

  


Eloise froze. And then she pulled out the books, read their titles, and took account of their content before she let out a squeal of glee. She’d never before gotten something from someone who wasn’t a family member and this was definitely the best gift ever.

If Eloise claimed sudden illness for the next ball so she could stay up reading all night, who could blame her? Well, everyone, but Eloise wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t say it were light reads, or that she understood everything immediately. But she was interested and hungry for knowledge and pushed through until she heard her brothers return from the ball.

The next morning Eloise was in the process of writing a letter of thanks when Daphne and her husband arrived, closely followed by Anthony barging in.

‘My, I skip a ball and the drawing room is still filled up with guests. I must be the most successful debutante ever’, Eloise teased.

‘What has gotten you so riled up, dear brother? Someone stepped on your toes?’

Anthony, if possible, turned even more livid.

‘Someone did, actually’, Benedict grinned as he balanced on two legs of his chair.

‘Kate Sheffield did’, Colin grinned before shovelling some more egg down his throat.

‘You danced with Kate Sheffield?’ Eloise asked. ‘I thought you didn’t care for her?’

‘I didn’t! I don’t! That woman is insufferable.’

‘Oh, couldn’t win her over in five minutes?’ Eloise asked.

‘Someone should muzzle you’, Anthony growled.

‘I imagine you must be great friends with her, Eloise. She has exactly the sort of wicked tongue you’d enjoy,’ Colin grinned.

‘Does she now, brother? Pray tell, how did you become an expert on her tongue?’ Benedict asked.

Eloise rolled her eyes. ‘If any of you had paid me any attention, you would have known that I already befriended her.’

‘Ah yes, I can see how you, she and Penelope Featherington fit together’, Benedict grinned.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Actually, I don’t see how Penelope fits in, she’s kind. You and that Sheffield girl are… Well. they’re in a league entirely of their own’, Colin pointed out.

‘Meaning?’ Eloise demanded.

‘Meaning there are few blades sharper than your words’, Anthony decided.

‘What? Mother!’ Eloise cried.

Her mother smiled sweetly, and drank her tea.

The others at the table laughed heartily at Lady Bridgerton’s subtle agreement.

  


‘So, why did you dance with her?’ Eloise continued, deciding that if she must suffer, than so did Anthony.

‘It is common knowledge that whoever wishes to court Miss Edwina, must be approved of by Miss Katherine. I thought it would be a good idea to introduce Anthony to her. I thought he, being such a seasoned wooer of women, would have an easy time sweeping her off her feet, and then he could easily haul in her younger sister as his bride’, Colin explained.

Eloise snorted.

‘Is this funny to you?’ Anthony demanded to know.

‘Yes, that plan was doomed from the start. She will never like you. She’s not persuaded by suave moves.’

‘I soon realized that Colin had set me up. He told me she was a shy old spinster.’

‘How long did it take you to find out?’ Eloise asked.

‘The second he introduced her. And if I was in any doubt, it was over by the time she…’

‘Yes?’ Eloise pressed.

‘By the time she told me I was almost as handsome as my brother.’

‘I’m the handsome brother’, Colin grinned, mouth full of food.

Eloise cackled, and even Daphne lost her composure.

‘Whoever decided a sister could decide whom her sister would marry?’ Anthony asked with a growl before taking a sip of coffee.

‘I would have thought that you, of all people, would have understood an elder sibling being protective of their younger sister?’ Eloise asked.

‘Daphne, would you like to remind Anthony what he was like, last year?’ Eloise said with a smile.

‘Last year? You mean to say he isn’t like that this year?’ Daphne asked.

‘Oh no, it took him less than an hour to realize that it were the men who had to fear me, instead of the reverse.’

‘Eloise, do be mindful that you’re not considered too rude’, Daphne pleaded.

‘Yes, yes. I promise I’m not being mean, not even when the person asking me to dance is an oaf. But I won’t say yes to men I know beforehand I won’t like.’

‘Sometimes… You can start out disliking someone and liking them better upon acquaintance, don’t judge too harshly’, Daphne said.

‘Yeah, I doubt it. I’m rash but my intuition is mostly right.’

‘God have mercy on the man who will ever marry you, you’re so full of your own right’, Anthony sighed.

‘Well, that makes me about just as bad a catch as you, doesn’t it?’

‘Daphne still thinks she’s always right, there’s hope for you both’, her husband informed the table.

‘Simon!’

The younger children laughed and Benedict snorted.

‘Dears, do calm down, you’ll make the lemon curd go sour’, Lady Bridgerton noted as she poured herself another cup of tea.

‘Anthony, Eloise, be nice to each other. Anthony, don’t talk down on your sister, she’s a wonderful woman in her own right. And I won’t hear about you being mean to an older sister, it’s most unbecoming. Imagine if Francesca came out and Eloise was protective of her because you were off somewhere, being married, if you are successful in your pursuit of this Miss Edwina. Would you like it if some man was after Francesca and was rude to Eloise for protecting her sister?’

‘I- no but…’

‘Then be nice.’

‘You know what? I will. I will be so nice she will have no reason to object to me marrying her sister!’ he decided, downing the remainder of his coffee before he rose.

‘I’ll go and buy them flowers, Edwina, her mother. Even for _her_. And I’ll pay a call, like any worthy suitor with noble intentions’, Anthony declared.

‘That’s my trick’, Simon laughed.

‘And everyone loved it, you sly old fox’, Anthony grinned, suddenly chipper. He pressed a kiss on Hyacinth’s and Gregory’s head before hopping out.

‘That poor girl’, Eloise sighed.

When Eloise later read something about an accident involving a dog, a pond, two wet Sheffields and one soaked Anthony Bridgerton, she couldn’t be blamed for cackling like a mad witch.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have guessed, this will be an almost eight year long slow-burn, but some years will go by faster than others :p


	5. Chapter 5

‘Imagine we were like those people from the Decamerone, all fleeing London to hide from the plague. And then we move to this amazing place in the country with gorgeous gardens, doing nothing but tell each other our best stories of humour, woe, lust and love. Actually, isn’t it astounding how much modern day country house parties haven’t changed from country parties almost five centuries ago?’ Eloise asked.

‘Pen?’

‘I have no clue what you’re talking about’, Penelope laughed.

**“The country house party is a very dangerous event. Married persons often find themselves enjoying the company of one other than one’s spouse, and unmarried persons often return to town as rather hastily engaged persons.  
  
Indeed, the most surprising betrothals are announced on the heels of these spells of rustication.  
  
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 2 MAY 1814””**

‘The Decamerone, you know? The most famous work of Boccaccio?’

‘I uhm… The title sounds somewhat familiar but honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever read something that’s five centuries old.’

‘Maybe you should, it’s truly delightful. The way he writes those days… In the morning they walk, then there’s lunch, the afternoon is spent in the gardens, then there’s music, then after dinner the whole group gets together to talk to each other. We’re so unoriginal, really. You should read it. He actually gives women the credit they are due. He calls them clever, resilient and resourceful. He even starts out saying women are subjugated by their families and forced into inactivity while men can explore, gamble, do business and pursue women. He encouraged women to not only pursue love. Can you believe we haven’t progressed in centuries despite the system being so obviously flawed?’ Eloise asked.

‘That does sound sad’, Penelope admitted. ‘But then I do believe only fools think brains are reserved for a certain gender.’

‘Right? Exactly!’

‘But I do believe men underestimating us has its advantages’, Penelope admitted.

‘Like?’

‘They don’t believe us capable of anything, so we get away with things more easily. Since they believe we’re too stupid to pull something off.’

‘Like murder?’ Eloise asked.

Penelope laughed, patted her friend’s hand and looked out of the window of their carriage.

They were riding to Aubrey Hall, where Lady Bridgerton had decided to hold a country house party. She’d invited quite a few worthy suitors for Eloise, but the focus was obviously on Anthony, as was evident from the men to women ratio of the company. The men also weren’t as wealthy or well connected, save the few married ones Her mother had left London a few days prior to convince a few local gentlemen’s sons to join their company.

‘Anyway, why are you talking about literature so often?’

‘What kind of question is that? We talk about literature all the time. We basically bonded over our reading the very first time the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons sat at a dinner table together’, Eloise protested.

‘I know, but it’s suddenly so much. And I’m not really following. You’re talking about all these works I never heard of. It’s one thing to talk about Walter Scott and Shakespeare and another to talk about… Who have you mentioned lately? Beowolf, this Italian, roman poets, Chaucer, Le Morte d’Arthur and then that French woman – ‘

‘Christine de Pizan’, Eloise filled in.

‘Yes, her.’

‘Well, it’s a more useful occupation than sitting around embroidering in the drawing room the whole day. Unless there’s been a party the night before, no man comes around to meet me. Not that I mind, I’m not exactly eager to marry. If this marriage thing doesn’t work out for us, we’ll be the most annoying old spinsters together, laughing at the ridiculousness of the ton as we see young debutantes flock in each year, right Pen?’

‘Sure. But I do want to give it a try first. It’s after all a good road to happiness and financial security. Even you must admit that’, Penelope smiled.

‘To financial security, certainly. Happiness, not so sure. In my family it certainly appears so, but I know that’s not always true.’

‘I received a letter from Marina just this morning’, Penelope announced. As if the topic of unhappy marriages automatically lent itself to discussing Marina. Perhaps it did.

‘Oh?’ Eloise asked.

She suddenly felt guilty for communicating with her husband in absolute secret, she hadn’t even told Penelope. Not that they wrote a lot, or said anything personal. But at the same time precisely that lack of personal talk, not even acknowledging Marina or the way they had gotten to know each other was the thing that made her feel bad.

‘Yes. She says the babies are trying to babble and they can already turn over. Amanda is even trying to sit. Marina fears the day they’ll start crawling’, Penelope smiled.

Eloise tried to smile, but feared she was failing. She’d adored her siblings when they were younger, but they could also be annoying in equal parts. She could remember their baby laughs as well as their god-awful wailing. And she remembered the days she had to watch over them with Daphne from time to time. They were indeed a menace when they just tried to crawl. Hyacinth had been so bloody curious. Eloise could not even begin to count the amount of times she only just managed to keep her from teetering off a pair of stairs to the garden or pulling a dog at the tail.

In fact, those memories were still so fresh, Eloise didn’t particularly wish to go through that again anytime soon. She understood Marina’s fear as a sister of infants, and wasn’t envious of the young woman having to manage two babies at the same time as their mother.

‘She says her and Phillip are getting along better. He’s getting out of his greenhouse more. When she’s too tired or needs a break he looks over them, takes them for a ride in a buggy.’

‘They don’t take care of them together?’

‘They switch, which sounds practical to me. She does lament that he doesn’t play with them as often as she’d like, he’s a bit distant.’

Eloise shrugged, deciding that carelessness was the best way to appear inconspicuous.

‘Perhaps they might get to be happy together after all. Mother told me she and father often had a rough time right after one of us was born, and that it got a bit better the more we grew’, Penelope explained. ‘Perhaps it just took them some time to get used to the babies and each other’, Penelope reasoned.

‘I hope so. For the children and for them’, Eloise said. She meant that. She felt the difference between her siblings, based on the amount of time they’d had with mother and father together. The youngest two had no actual memories of father. It had been Anthony who played with them and took care of them. Children deserved two parents. And she remembered how miserable mother was without dad. She had seen how tense things were between the loveless Featherington couple. She didn’t wish that kind of fate upon anyone.

They stopped in an inn for some Sheppard’s pie as the horses were rested, watered and fed. And only arrived at Aubrey Hall in the late afternoon. The lazy early May sun shone down on the warm yellow stone, giving it a pleasing luminescence that struck Eloise’s heartstrings. As it grew larger she realized everything was exactly as she remembered, the wide green lawn, the hyacinth carpet after which her sister was named, the ancient elms, the creek glittering not too far from the estate. This was where she and her siblings had played during seven blissfully happy years. She could still imagine her father carrying her on his shoulders, running after Anthony and Benedict because she was still too slow and small to play tag with them on her own. She remembered the last few weeks the most. Shortly after her father’s death she’d started penning everything she remembered down, because she feared to forget anything about him. Reminiscing on the good times had been her safe heaven, but memories had only tortured her mother, who decided to spend more and more time in London to avoid the ghost of her husband.

‘Perhaps we should visit them again, this summer. To see how the children are growing up, offer some company. I’d go now, as I know the company would be welcome, but mamma wouldn’t let me leave during the season. My duty is to find a husband. Like that will happen anytime soon when I look like a lemon meringue’, Penelope sighed, smoothing down the unflatteringly bright dress that didn’t suit her complexion.

‘If a man can only look at your dress and not your face or personality, that man is not worthy of your attention.’

‘How will they ever know my personality if they run before they get closer?’

‘If they’re scared by a dress, they’re pathetic. Like most men are oh so fashionable, imagine we wore velvet just because it was warm. Lady Whistledown would beat us in a column.’

‘She doesn’t critique people for their clothes as often anymore. She still does but not a lot’, Penelope pointed out.

‘No, she hasn’t. You’re right. She still has it out for my brothers but I have noticed she doesn’t single out spinsters or innocent debutantes anymore, unless to cover a courtship. And very funny incidents like the one with Anthony and the Sheffields? Hilarious. She doesn’t destroy anyone the way she destroyed Daphne last season.’

‘I’m glad for it, to be honest, I got quite afraid of her pen’, Penelope laughed.

Eloise nodded. ‘I must say, I feel a lot easier now. I imagine if she’d still been as sharp as she’d been last season I would have ruined my family by ending up in some unflattering story.’

‘But you haven’t done anything unflattering yet’, Penelope frowned.

‘Yet is the right term. We still have some months to go for me to embarrass my mother and a suitor’, Eloise laughed.

‘Ah, we’re there. Finally! Home sweet home.’

Before a footman could open her door, she threw it open, breathing in a breath of fresh air heavy with the scent of warm grass.

The footman jumped back, before regaining his dignity and offering her an arm to get out. She did, barely containing her excitement. Her mother would be disappointed if she started running in a day dress. Penelope followed close behind.

‘Mom!’ Eloise swung her arms around her mother, gaining a couple of frowns and lifted eyebrows. She quickly took a step back.

‘Eloise, and Penelope. I trust you’ve had a pleasant journey?’

‘Quite, Lady Bridgerton, the roads were most soft and pleasant, barely a single pit in the road. We had a very smooth ride’, Penelope answered politely.

‘I’m glad, you know where to get drinks and where your rooms are girls, same as every stay. Now I must greet the other guests’, Lady Bridgerton smiled. ‘Unless, Eloise, you want to learn how to be a hostess and join me as the Miss Bridgerton of the family.’

‘Maybe another time, I am a bit exhausted and stiff of the journey’, Eloise quickly decided, pretending to crack her back.

Her mother didn’t look too surprised or disappointed.

Penelope and Eloise ran up the stairs towards their rooms. The servants had already prepared it for her with fresh sheets, a vase of lavender on the desk and a vase of fragrant hyacinths on her nightstand. She sat down at her desk, trying to remember what it was like sitting down here as an eight year old during the summer following their father’s desk, trying to write poetry after butchering high quality painting paper for a doomed watercolour painting of the family home. Another one of the female accomplishments she’d failed. She pulled open one of the drawers, finding the old notebooks still in it. She let out a laugh at the infantile script, her penmanship had progressed immensely since those uneven lines and ugly spelling mistakes.

**“Father has been dead a year now. I hate it. I miss him. Anthony trys to be dad, but he is not!!! He is so bosy, being very cevere with Daff, Col, Ben and me. He sent me to my room to _think and reflect_. I _reflect_ that I was allowed to beat Gregory for putting a dead frog in my bed. He started it!!! It is unfair. He says Gregory is just a child while I am suposed to act like a lady, but it is still unfaire. Bad is bad! Now he plays with them outside while I rot here. I don’t want to be a lady, I went revench.”**

Eloise laughed. Oh, the joys of growing up with brothers. They were always up to mischief. Mind, Eloise too. She had always made sure there was some kind of retribution whenever someone dared to bother her. But her methods had certainly matured. As she grew older she’d started seeing the dangers of some of her revenge methods. In retrospect, it was a wonder no one had ever gotten seriously injured. In a few years Penelope would without a doubt get such letters from Marina. If Eloise was a bit more immature, she’d suggest methods for one of the children to get back at the other.

Eloise moved over to the window. The room had without a doubt been aired before but it still felt somewhat stifling. She rather let some warm day air in than cold night air. Something moved in the garden beneath her. Was that… Kate Sheffield, dressed in a pale lavender frock… Standing with Anthony and… was he giving her a flower?

But Anthony had told them he was courting Edwina! Eloise could not make heads or tails out of it. Was he trying to impress Kate to get her approval, despite that he’d told his family that he would pursue Edwina with or without Kate’s approval?

She hoped Kate would push his flower in his face, and not fall for his smooth peace-making attempt. Kate was a very clever and strong woman, surely she wouldn’t? Kate was exactly what Eloise aspired to be. An older sister, probably not off the market anytime soon, outspoken and direct, yet still accepted by society. Eloise was sure she’d still be around by the time Francesca came out. If Anthony was married by that time, at least some of the burden of protecting her baby sister would fall on her.

To her utter devastation Kate accepted the flower.

Eloise rolled her eyes. She’d thought better of her.

The servants carried in her bags and Eloise just took out Sense and Sensibility, deciding to read until dinner. At least therein, rakes got what they deserved and ridiculous matchmakers were called out for their behaviour.

By the time she descended for dinner – she’d delayed having her hair properly coiffed and decorated until she was borderline late – all were already downstairs. Most young misses had gathered together in a corner of the drawing room. It was easy to spot Penelope in her canary yellow dress with ruffles and Kate’s tall figure in pistachio green. To her dismay, she noted Cresside Cowper was amongst them.

Eloise wondered whether her mother was truly so oblivious she hadn’t noticed Cressida’s vile behaviour towards Penelope and Daphne last year, or whether she had but had felt forced to invite her and her mother out of politeness.

Hang politeness, there’s nothing polite or pleasant about her company, Eloise decided. She’d never had the displeasure of meeting her personally, but she’d heard everything from Penelope last year. Some stories had even come accompanied with tears of anguish as the then-chubbier girl recounted the cruel comments Cressida had given.

Feeling defensive, Eloise moved forward but was paused by her mother who felt forced to correct a bow that looked a bit lopsided according to her. Her mother then dragged her along to greet the vicar and his awkward son, and some young bachelors. She gave them a few tight smiles and polite curtsies, always keeping her eyes on the group.

Penelope and Kate didn’t look happy. She wanted to go over. She was sure it was that Cressida again. She’d give her some piece of mind as the reigning Miss of the house. Anthony came over to whisper something in mother’s ear.

‘Anthony’, Eloise hissed. Anthony frowned but moved over.

‘Mother is keeping me hostage, could you check if everything’s alright with Penelope? Something’s up.’

‘I noticed as well’, he admitted.

‘Please? You’re the man. Manage the guests’, she hissed.

Anthony nodded and moved away.

Barely a minute later, Anthony was giving the sign that it was time for supper by leading Penelope into the dining room, giving her the honour above any other single lady.

Cressida almost stomped into the dining room.

Eloise was put beside Kate and Penelope, and across some gentlemen she cared but little about, even though a blond one did try to start a conversation an awful lot of times. Sir Greene, she believed he was called. Meanwhile Edwina was put across Anthony, showing her mother possessed little subtlety after all.

The two girls updated Eloise on what had happened and Eloise was practically fuming by the end.

‘If I were Lady Whistledown, I’d have no qualms whatsoever ruining her reputation. She’d be doing society a favour. It would protect good people from getting hurt by her, and prevent men from entering into the biggest mistake of their life.’

‘Only an idiot doesn’t see how awful she is, and if they do see how terrible she is and decide to marry her anyway, they deserve to be made miserable’, Kate scoffed.

‘Oh you should have just seen Anthony’s face when he discovered he had the pink mallet and Kate had his black one, mother! Priceless. I’d pay good money to have that expression painted to be committed to memory’, Eloise overheard Benedict laughing then.

Eloise turned away from her friends.

‘You played Pall Mall without me?’ she demanded to know.

‘Uhm… No?’ Colin said hesitantly.

‘I hate you, detestable bunch. You were afraid of losing, weren’t you?’ Eloise pressed.

‘As a matter of fact, we simply didn’t consider you. We were with three already, Miss Sheffield was closest by and invited herself and her sister, and Simon and Daphne were downstairs. We were already fully booked.’

Eloise rolled her eyes.

‘Well then, I hope you were all at least properly beaten, as is deserving of brothers who do not invite their sisters?’

‘Well, we decided not to finish it since the game already ended in the best way possible’, Daphne explained mysteriously.

‘How does a game end in the best way possible before it really ends?’ Eloise frowned.

‘Benedict?’ she asked, trusting her closest confidante to tell her.

‘Because Anthony kicked Kate’s ball into another county but she game back with vengeance and beat his straight into the pond.’

‘She didn’t! Did she? Did you?’ Eloise asked.

The oldest Sheffield sister tried to look down in modesty and shame, but Eloise could just see her smile.

‘Oh I adore you!’ Eloise grinned.

‘So Anthony, your so called skills were only due to the mallet, not your actual talent.’

‘I have talent’, Anthony scoffed.

‘Oh yeah, then why does whoever swings the mallet of death always claim victory, instead of you?’ she pushed.

‘Beginner’s luck’, he shrugged.

‘Whatever helps you sleep at night’, Eloise shrugged, earning her a very sour look from Anthony.

‘With such a tongue you’ll never marry.’

‘Good, then I’ll be your annoying little problem forever’, Eloise decided.

Anthony groaned, dropping his face in his hands. He muttered something incomprehensible, but Eloise was certain she heard the words ‘Lord’ and ‘Strength’.

The evening progressed as Eloise had predicted, with a silly game of charades. But then the men withdrew and Lady Bridgerton scolded Eloise for her much too lively imitations of some of London’s ton, warning her that with Lady Whistledown’s identity unknown and many people present, her unflattering imitations risked coming back to the people she mocked. Thus, with another failure under her arms, she went upstairs annoyed and frustrated. And read until the real world couldn’t bother her anymore.

She loved the gossip of the ton, but she hated walking on eggshells. Sometimes she wondered whether it wasn’t preferrable to hear about London gossip but live in the countryside where she was freer to express herself.

The next day Eloise and Penelope were in the drawing room together with Edwina, all writing letters to their family. Penelope to her mother, Eloise to her sisters and Edwina writing to some cousins when their mothers stumbled in, white as sheets and unusually quiet.

‘Mother, what is it? You look like you’ve seen the devil.’

‘One could say that’, Lady Featherington replied, but even she was distracted.

‘Edwina, dear, I need to talk to you, could you come along, please?’ Mrs. Sheffield asked, eyes full of empathy.

Eloise hadn’t understood. Mary Sheffield looked like she had to break the news of someone’s death.

But soon she found out.

**“And indeed, if a scandal does erupt at Lady Bridgerton’s party, those of us who remain in London may be assured that any and all titillating news shall reach our tender ears with all possible haste. With so many notorious gossips in attendance, we are all but guaranteed a full and detailed report.**

**LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 4 MAY 1814”**

**“This Author has it on the best authority that the new couple was caught in a compromising position, and that Mrs. Featherington was a witness, but Mrs. F has been uncharacteristically close lipped about the entire affair. Given that lady’s propensity for gossip, This Author can only assume that the viscount (never known for lacking a spine) threatened bodily injury upon Mrs. F should she even breathe a syllable.**  
  
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 11 MAY 1814”

Even a week later, Eloise was in shock. Anthony was to marry sensible, clever, direct Kate Sheffield. She could barely imagine how she had gone from professing her hate for philandering vain haughty men to wanting to marry Anthony. And Anthony had called Kate insufferable. Edwina was convinced she had seen the signs in Anthony, but Eloise was sure there had been none. Then Edwina pointed out how Lady Whistledown had suggested at the start of the season that Anthony and Kate would have been an interesting match and damn her, she was right. Lady Whistledown had said that. And Eloise could almost cry out in frustration that a stranger had predicted her brother’s actions with more accuracy than she, his sister. But then Eloise pointed out that not even Lady Whistledown could have predicted a bee would sting Kate, causing Anthony to offer to suck the venom out right as all mammas passed by them.

Eloise wondered whether an unhappy forced marriage was preferable to a small scandal caused by a bloody bee.

She hoped their marriage fared better than Marina’s and Phillip’s. Much as Anthony was sometimes insufferable, she didn’t want him to be unhappy. Nor did she want Kate to be unhappy.

Until this season, her brother had been unflinchingly convinced of his bachelorhood. She wondered whether she too would make that sudden switch one season. She couldn’t really envision it. Who would take annoying, nosy, pushy, bookish, stubborn little her in and accept her?

The week after returning the whole house was in disarray as the marriage was arranged with all due haste. There was still a lot to do despite it being a quiet affair. Eloise found herself so busy with little tasks and errands that before she knew it she was wishing Anthony and Kate well and waving them off.

Two siblings in two years. Her heart plummeted. If it kept going at this pace, she’d lose a sibling every year. Certainly, she still saw plenty of Daphne but it just wasn’t the same. They’d often been at odds, as they were polar opposites, but she was still not used to her absence. When she read a book in the drawing room now, it wasn’t Daphne’s virtuoso piano play but Hyacinth who made the piano wail in pain. When her younger siblings were being tutored, Daphne wasn’t around to talk to her, and she just felt… a bit deserted. And now Anthony would move back into the Bridgerton house as the patriarch. Worse, Kate would come to live in the house, not as her friend but as someone who was technically above her and allowed to tell Eloise what to do. She was sure Kate wouldn’t, but it still sat uneasy with her.

Three people she loved had moved on to a world she knew nothing about.

‘A shame, he always was a decent fellow’, Sir Greene sighed.

‘Whatever do you mean, sir?’ Eloise demanded to know.

‘Oh, that it’s only a shame a fine fellow like your brother was seduced into marrying beneath his station by some cheap scheme of a social climber. No doubt your family must feel terrible after having one of their own ensnared in such a way, and the heir, no less. I would never do that to someone. Nor would I allow my sister to act in such a way. _I_ always tell her men and women should be honest about their intentions and noble in their conduct.’

‘You are wrong, sir. There was no seducing or scheming.’

‘Poor girl, you have no clue of the depths that some women would sink to, but your innocence becomes you. Good virtuous women should not know of such vulgar scheming.’

Now he started condescending her?

‘Sir Greene.’

Eloise disliked arguing with embodiments of stupidness, but felt insulted enough to rise to the occasion to defend the honour of her newly wedded brother and his wife. However, she knew it would not be a good look if she started shouting and insulting someone at a wedding. So she just nodded and marched away towards the garden.

‘Benedict, tobacco!’ Eloise cried, storming to her brother.

‘Wow wow wow, what happened? Did someone try and ask you to marriage?’ her brother joked.

‘I’m not in the mood for jokes’, she growled, yanking his cigarette from between his lips and taking a deep drag.

‘Such a lady, you are’, her brother chuckled. ‘Breathing smoke like a dragon.’

He rolled another.

‘So eh, what happened?’ he asked after drawing a fresh breath of tobacco himself.

‘Something good actually, I controlled my temper.’

‘Sure looks like it.’

‘That oaf of a Greene insulted Kate and Anthony. I was very tempted to beat him up or shout.’

‘Ah, yes. I can see how this is preferable’, he agreed.

Eloise puffed and puffed until she had nothing between her fingers anymore. Benedict quietly supplied her another.

‘So, it’s us now’, Eloise sighed after a while.

‘The new oldest bachelor Bridgerton man and woman.’

Benedict nodded, brow furrowing.

‘Yeah’, he breathed out a cloud of white.

‘At least I have less pristine footsteps to fill than you.’

‘Hmph.’

‘At least the pressure is off for this season, certainly the ton will be satisfied with one Bridgerton marriage.’

‘I’m sure those impoverished knights and baronets will feel less pressured to find a wife with a large dowry because a man married a woman’, Benedict mocked.

Eloise rolled her eyes, but she knew it was true. It would be too easy. Yet, she had hope that few men would find her dowry enticing if it came with the condition of having to live with Eloise Bridgerton.

Eloise’s hopes were dashed not a month later.

‘Miss Bridgerton, certainly you cannot doubt my intentions. I have been clear and transparent this entire season. I only ever visited your drawing room after balls. Believe me to be a most ardent admirer of you.’

‘Sir Greene –‘

Perhaps if she had shouted at him when she had the chance, she could have prevented this whole mess. But no, she had instead decided to go the Daphne route. Much good it did her.

‘No no, say nothing. I know I am not the most titled or wealthy man, but believe my intentions to be most honourable. I said I believed in honesty and proper courtship, I stand by my words. Miss Bridgerton, please allow me to court you. As proper, I already asked your brother and he agreed on the condition that you welcomed my suit as well.’

‘Excuse me?’ she brought out in disbelief.

She thanked the gods Anthony had drawn his lessons from Daphne’s season, but now she had to battle this man herself.

‘You are confused. I see, it is because you are so humble you cannot believe it. Believe me to be most convinced of your beauty, your elegance, your refinement and you wit.’

The presumptuous prick! She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm and dignified.

‘But, Sir Greene, certainly, I have given no sign of interest…’

‘As is only proper! Indeed, a girl should never throw herself at a man unless she has assured herself of the man’s interests. Of course men do appreciate a few hints, and do not believe I have not seen them whenever you smiled at me and engaged in conversation with me.’

‘Sir Greene, I assure you I did no such thing.’

‘Ah, it is alright, Miss Bridgerton, I would not hold it against you.’

‘You are mistaken. I had no interest in you and did not mean to encourage you. I apologize if you took my actions for something they weren’t but I honestly have no interest in you.’

She prayed he would leave it at that. She wasn’t certain how much longer she could be polite.

‘Miss Bridgerton, I’ll have you know that I’m aware I am one of the very few men having interest in you. Indeed I believe I am the only one willing to propose to you. I am no bad match for you. I am no duke but then you are not your sister –‘

‘That’s enough! I believe you have made yourself quite clear, Sir Greene. And I believe my answer was equally clear. It is obvious you have nothing of value to say anymore, so please, leave.’

‘This is no way to treat a suitor! You are without a doubt the rudest woman I have ever met! If society hears of the way you –‘

‘If so much as one word reaches me of you spreading gossip, I will have no qualms about telling everyone you tried to threaten and shame me into marriage! Leave, you are no longer welcome!’

Sir Greene took up his hat and took off fuming.

No sooner had the door closed behind his back then she deflated.

She had accepted she might receive a proposal from some dull desperate man, and she had prepared for awkwardly refusing it, but never had she expected it would be such a disaster. Her heart beat violently. She couldn’t believe she’d almost ruined the Bridgerton name without putting a single foot wrong.

Her hands shook, the marriage market felt more like a battlefield than a party. More than ever she understood why Lady Whistledown referred to the players upon the marriage market as careful strategists, hunters and victims.

Was it to always be like this for her? It was unfair. Why did Daphne get the romantic attentions of a prince and a duke who treated her as if she’d hung the moon while she got to deal with monsters like Sir Greene? And why was there no one to protect her the way she had tried to protect Daphne from Berbrooke?

Eloise decided then and there she’d had enough of the season. She needed to go. Hadn’t Penelope mentioned she wanted to visit Marina again? That suited her fine, there was only one man there and he was married. She’d ask her.

**‘You will see why I could not accept his suit. He was too churlish by half and positively possessed of a foul temper. I should like to marry someone gracious and considerate, who treats me like a queen. Or at the very least, a princess. Surely that is not too much to ask.**

**from Eloise Bridgerton to Penelope Featherington”**

She was making plans for her departure when late that night, she heard a clattering in the hall. Curiosity got the better of her. She hoped it wasn’t a burglar. Descending the stairs she saw instead that it was Anthony who was sneaking through the hallway.

‘Anthony?’

‘Eloise!’ he jumped.

‘Why on earth are you still up?’

‘And why on earth are you not in bed with your wife?’

‘I owe you no answers’, he scoffed, slamming the door of his office shut.

Eloise rushed back upstairs.

Why was Anthony here? Had something happened between him and Kate? She desperately hoped that the forced nature of their marriage wasn’t making them unhappy. Until now, they had both seemed perfectly happy.

She quickly reasoned that whatever it was, she doubted Kate could have any blame. It was probably Anthony who was acting like a brat. He was probably too used to being a bachelor. She had to write to Kate. Her friend deserved to know, if she didn’t already. She grabbed her ink jar but then she paused. The servants were asleep, and it would be cruel to wake them up. She had to wait until morning. Annoyed, she crawled into bed.

Her escape attempt would have to wait until the problems between her friend and brother were resolved.


	6. Chapter 6

‘Pen! It’s so good to see you! Eloise’, Marina flung herself around Penelope.

Eloise gave a nod, pushing her by now outgrown bangs behind her ears. She’d forgotten to pin them. Or rather, she’d been too hasty to take care of it, as always.

‘Marina. I’m so sorry we couldn’t come earlier. You know how mother forces us to smile and dance at every ball all season.’

‘As long as that woman keeps putting you in those ridiculous clothes it will not matter whether you will attend all balls or none’, Marina scoffed.

Penelope smoothed the lime fabric of her pelisse with an unhappy expression.

‘I’m afraid we weren’t very lucky this year either. But our dowry was a bit compromised. Otherwise I’m sure Philipa would have married Mr. Finch last season already. But something might change soon. Mama is trying to get the heir to marry Prudence so that we are safe and provided for. He has been in the Mediterranean these past few years, him and father did not like each other a lot.’

‘And he is back now?’

‘Only since June. Apparently he had a wife, a woman of lower birth, but she died while giving birth a year ago.’

‘Oh heavens, and the child?’

‘Died the same day. I shall not repeat what my mother thought of that situation.’

‘No need. She is probably very happy with the possibility that her daughter might produce a Featherington heir.’

Penelope nodded, looking away.

‘Oh, are those – my, how they’ve grown!’ Penelope cooed, rushing over to a wooden playpen where one child was clumsily smashing a wooden to horse on the floor and another was crawling around, burbling nonsense.

‘They have, haven’t they?’ Marina smiled.

Eloise came closer as well, and noticed the children had become just a shade darker, and their hair had turned more curly. Such handsome babies.

‘They look so well!’

‘If only they acted well’, Marina replied.

‘I swear they know exactly how to push our buttons. When to cry, when to smile. And their antics fill me with terror. They cannot be left alone.’

‘They’ll grow out of it’, Eloise promised.

‘When?’

‘If they’re like my family, they become less annoying around eighteen.’

Marina sighed and murmured a prayer.

‘I cannot remember being so testing when I was twelve, surely, they might turn out to be angels too?’

‘Maybe, maybe not’, Eloise said unhelpfully.

‘Children often take after their parents, behaviour-wise, I’m told’, Penelope comforted Marina. ‘You were a quiet child, weren’t you? Was …?’

‘I don’t know. George never said, and with Phillip and it’s kind of a rule we don’t talk about their childhood. But if George was anywhere like he was as an adult, he was quite active and lively.’

Oliver looked up, gurgling at Penelope.

‘Oh, can I?’ Penelope asked.

‘Yes, just be careful, they can easily wriggle their way out of your grasp’, Marina warned.

‘Would you like to hold Amanda?’ Marina asked.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind but it’s not necessary’, Eloise stammered.

‘I don’t mind’, Marina shrugged. She deposited a wriggling baby into Eloise’s arms. Eloise took her to the couch and sat down, paying attention to her grip. It was a lot easier to hold one than she remembered. But then she had been very small back when her siblings were babies. A pair of clever eyes looked at her, and Eloise felt oddly watched. Then two small hands reached up, targeted, and tiny fingers wrapped themselves around Eloise’s nose.

‘Auch!’ She pulled her head back, small nails digging in her nostrils before she was free.

‘That’s them for you. Is motherhood looking attractive already?’ Marina joked, dropping into a pink armchair.

Eloise tried holding Amanda’s hands in her one hand, tickling her belly with her other. She shivered at the idea of having two children, no mere three years from now on. Stuck on the countryside with a man she didn’t care for, with little to do. It sounded so bland and suffocating. But this?

‘I never imagined motherhood to be anything else’, Eloise replied. ‘No child with Bridgerton blood could be docile. Francesca will be the only one of us who will perhaps produce a soft-spoken calm child.’

‘Colin isn’t so bad now, is he?’ Penelope asked.

‘He tied me to a tree when they went to a tavern and I asked whether I could join them two years ago.’

A smile ghosted across Marina’s face, but it was gone within seconds.

‘We should do something fun today’, Marina decided.

‘Oh, like what?’ Penelope asked, struggling to keep Oliver calm in her arms.

‘Go to town perhaps? We haven’t gone last time since it was still cold and rainy.’

‘Sounds good to me’, Penelope encouraged.

Eloise wasn’t excited for hours of ribbon and feather buying, but if she told herself she could get a treat from a bakery to make it worthwhile.

‘Sure. Why not?’ Eloise shrugged. At least it was vastly superior to being hounded by awful suitors and having tea with insipid young ladies.

As they got ready, Penelope spoke to Eloise.

‘She seems to be doing better, doesn’t she?’

‘She does appear to be in a happier mood’, Eloise allowed.

‘She must just be temperamental’, Penelope decided. ‘She’s had mood swings as long as I know her. She could do nothing but laugh at a ball and the next day she’d be incredibly stormy. And then she could be such a contrarian to mama and rude to guests… and even to me. While immediately apologizing hours later. I’d always assumed it had been the result of the stress, you know. And mama and the husbands she forced upon would test anyone’s patience. But…’, Penelope shrugged.

‘Oh well, no use in worrying about it now. It’s resolved. Isn’t it?’

‘Hm’, Penelope merely responded.

Town was… better than Eloise had assumed. It wasn’t too far off from Romney Hall, the roads were decent and there were even multiple shops. And this far from London, the prices really were a bargain. The bookstore was not more than a shelf on the wall of a general store, and there were no books that hadn’t been published at least five years ago, but that was hardly to be expected.

Eloise was dragged along market stalls with ribbons in every shade of the rainbow, buttons in all colours and dainty pieces of lace. Eloise wondered if she could have the lace turned into chemisettes and caps. Perhaps if she wore those to evening activities she would disabuse all present gentlemen of the notion she was something to just be gawked at.

If anything had become clear to her the past season it was that back when her hemlines were short as a child, no one looked at her twice or tried to find out her personality, and now that her hemlines were low, many wanted to talk to her, but none wanted to listen. She wondered what a lady had to do to get men to go beyond looks, and get the kind of admiration for their person her mama, Daphne and Kate had gotten. Whenever she watched them interact with their husbands, exchange teasing words and caring expression of affection that betrayed they knew each other so well, inside and out, she couldn’t help but feel some envy. She’d only ever had that with Penelope, and even then it had never been exactly like that.

‘Oh, this colour looks lovely on you, Pen.’

Marina held a lovely blue silk against Penelope’s skin.

‘It really brings out both the colour of your skin and the pink of your cheeks.’

‘Like a drawing on a china cup’, Eloise supplied with a smirk. ‘No, I apologize. It looks lovely, indeed. _Truly_ lovely’, she felt the need to express, since she knew how much her friend suffered under having to dress the way she did. And because her dress was so horrible, she rarely received any compliments on her looks, not even from her mother.

Her friend beamed at her, before her smile faded.

‘It does not matter. I have two dresses in my closet that are a nice colour, but mother always puts me in whatever she likes when we go somewhere. I’ve only ever managed to wear my pink dress to one ball, and that was because my mother could not attend.’

‘But you’re without her now, aren’t you?’ Marina asked. ‘And what will she do if you come down in a dress that is not handpicked by her? Force you to go back upstairs? Just tarry while getting ready so that by the time you go downstairs there is no more time for her to send you back upstairs for a change’, Marina continued.

Eloise had to admit she liked Marina’s disrespect for authority, especially when it concerned going against Lady Featherington.

‘I will even pay for it if your pin money doesn’t allow for it’, Marina offered.

‘Oh Marina, I couldn’t.’

‘I insist. It’s no use buying many nice clothes for me, as the countryside is dull and we’re virtually never invited to anything’, she admitted with a bit of a bitter smile.

‘I have enough money, really, believe me’, Penelope assured her.

And indeed, Penelope procured all money required for enough yards of fabric to make an entire two dresses out of it, despite that the fabric was far from cheap.

Eloise did wonder how Penelope could have so much pin money given the Featherington’s financial situation, even if she’d saved. Penelope spent it like she wasn’t even worried about spending so much. She would have to remember to ask Penelope about it.

Eloise bought a new blue ribbon for her hair, Marina bought some more fabric flowers for her dresses and afterwards they just roamed the town at their leisure.

They laughed at children running after dogs, men stumbling out of pubs and free-walking geese lashing out at unsuspecting market goers.

‘This is vastly superior to London’, Eloise couldn’t help but exclaim once they bought some sweets and pastries.

‘Why?’

‘Well, no man looks at me and thinks he’s entitled to me, which is a nice change. People are a good deal less full of themselves here. No empty chatter about china and silver cutlery.’

‘No mammas’, Penelope laughed.

‘No silly society, just gals being pals’, Eloise grinned.

‘My my, not that I ever enjoyed London. I much preferred my old town. But you two sound like bitter spinsters in the making. I dislike London for obvious reasons but you two always had the possibility to go everywhere, there is no door that doesn’t open for you, you both live in so much opulence with so many people who care for you in London’, Marina smirked.

‘I hope we won’t end up spinsters,’ Penelope said, looking at Eloise with a sad smile, ‘but we won’t settle for someone we don’t like if we get the choice. We both still have plenty of time to find love.’

‘Exactly. And we also can’t go wherever we like. To start off with, we always need to be chaperoned, we can never go somewhere and be free. Secondly, if I could go anywhere I would got to university, or check out what men do in gentleman’s clubs. They act so mysterious about them’, Eloise added. ‘A gilded cage is still a cage. I wish I could fly like a man. Take Colin, he’s been all over the Mediterranean the past year. I could never! Or parliament! I can’t go to parliament. Or a job!’

‘There are women who have jobs, Eloise. Most women actually. Shopkeepers, servants, modistes. And guess what, your lot either looks down on them or pretend they’re air most of the time’, Marina pointed out. ‘But indeed, you are not free like a man. But you are freer than most women. And sometimes you should just appreciate that instead of looking at things you cannot have.’

Marina took a couple of steps, marching in front of the two other girls. ‘I think I would gladly endure a hundred boring conversations over silverware – and mind I found just the two I overheard from Lady Featherington so excruciating I lost a year of my life – if that meant I could take my time to freely choose a husband and until I found one, frolic around with my friends.’

‘Marina, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean it that way.’

The older girl paused again, so the other two could catch up.

‘I know that. I apologize, sometimes it’s a bit hard to keep from turning bitter. In the end I could have had time, it’s the fault of only two people that I could not take my time and choose a husband, and I am one of those two.’

‘Is it really so bad?’ Penelope couldn’t help but ask.

‘What?’

‘Marriage. I- I know it was rushed, and that neither of you could choose one another… but… for example I like almost every Bridgerton. Because much as they are different, they’re also all very similar’, Penelope said, smiling at Eloise.

‘Phillip is nothing like George. In fact, it’s hard to even find more than three things they have in common. And those three things are their mother, their father, and their past’, Marina joked.

‘But’, she sighed, nodding, ‘it is not terrible. Remember that awful old man Lady Featherington dragged in one day? The pompous fat one who insisted on seeing my teeth and my figure like I was some sort of race horse he was buying?’

Penelope nodded.

‘It could have been worse. I could have been married to a monster like him. I am not mistreated. I am not seen as a decorative vase. I am respected. No one expects me to do things I don’t want to do. I have even more freedom than I did before I married, because now no one will tell me what to do. But, well… it’s a far cry from the kind of marriage I had dreamed about’, Marina admitted.

She let out a sad laugh.

‘I dreamt of a house filled with laughter, being away from home every day to be with friends, dancing until the sun came up, fun games, silly conversations. I’ll never have that. I knew I would never have that the second I heard George died. I can’t imagine there’s anyone on this earth able to replace him. Especially not his brother.’

Eloise froze. That’s exactly what her mother had said whenever she talked about father. That’s how their house had been before father died. It had taken them years to find a new family dynamic.

Marina’s eyes grew distant, and Eloise knew that Marina was no longer walking along the dusty road to Romney Hall with them anymore. She was in a memory.

‘He’s as dutiful and honourable as George but that’s it. He’s quiet where George was loud, he’s studious and dull where George was social and lively, who was charismatic while Phillip manages to make everyone as awkward as him in a social situation. There wasn’t a book I didn’t agree upon with George, while there isn’t a single book I’ve read that Phillip is interested in, and vice versa. There’s no interest that connects us, no leisure activity we both enjoy. I’d love to go out and talk and dance and play cards. He’s happiest when he’s left to his own devices in his tiny little bubble.’

Eloise didn’t necessarily agree. Last time he was with them he had tried to make conversation, and one-on-one with her he had been able to appear intelligent, caring and funny in a very dry sort of way. But it was true he had the social graces of a rock. It was rather a shame, neither of them were bad or unpleasant people, they were just too different to be perceived as pleasant by the other.

‘So no, marriage isn’t that bad. Once we realized love was never going to happen and we had to treat marriage like a partnership instead of trying to force a relationship, it got better. We realized some months ago that we were unhappy because we were frustrated the other wasn’t what we looked for in a relationship. We’ve since accepted that this will only be a partnership. He does the duties of a father and baronet, I do the duties of a mother and lady of the household. We try to talk to each other as polite friends. And leave each other enough room and privacy to pursue our different interests.’

‘Really?’ Penelope asked. ‘That sounds so sad.’

‘We’re in a forced marriage. We’re nothing alike. No miracle will happen. It’s far better to be respected and have a friendship than hate each other and force each other to be true husband and wife when neither of us wants that’, Marina decided, shrugging.

She hesitated then, overlooking the two unmarried ladies.

‘Since we’re both trapped in this marriage we allowed each other to seek love and affection elsewhere. But… I doubt I’ll ever want anyone but George. And I refuse to ask Phillip to accept another child that isn’t his. And Phillip doesn’t want to disrespect his vows. So you see, we were both mature about it. We offered each other to become happy another way, and we refused it. We chose to have it this way, there’s nothing sad about it. It’s just life.’

They had allowed each other to cheat, Eloise realized in shock. A shiver ran down her spine. She couldn’t imagine ever cheating on a spouse. But then, she couldn’t imagine not loving her spouse to death.

‘I hope I’ll ever find someone who loves me’, Penelope sighed.

‘One day, a man must be smart enough to recognize your kind heart’, Marina comforted her.

‘That’s what I tell her, they’re all fools in London. Not that I necessarily want them to find out how incredible Pen is, because then she’ll be stolen from me. I’m not yet ready to lose my best friend to matrimony’, Eloise smirked, hooking her arm through Penelope’s.

‘I couldn’t suffer through all those dull balls and tedious dinners without her to jest with.’

‘How mercenary of you’, Penelope laughed.

‘That would mean you’d have to marry at the same time’, Marina pointed out.

‘Well now, there’s a thought’, Eloise grinned.

‘If Edwina could demand Kate had to approve of her suitors. Why couldn’t we demand that every time a man decided to court either of, they would have to make sure a friend of theirs courted the other? If we get courted at the same time, we must get married around the same time as well. We could be like Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. Being proposed to in the same week and marrying around the same time.’

‘That would be grand’, Penelope laughed.

‘Amazing’, Eloise added.

‘Superb’, Penelope giggled.

‘You two are strange’, Marina said as a servant opened the door for them.

They were back at Romney Hall.

No sooner were they in the drawing room though, than a maid rushed in.

‘Oh, oh Lady Crane, thank heavens your home’, the maid cried out.

‘Bess, what is it?’

‘It’s Amand-‘

Marina was already running upstairs.

The two other girls couldn’t help but follow, their curiosity too strong.

‘What?’

‘They were playing when Oliver hit Amanda with a wooden toy. On the head. We haven’t been able to stop her cry – ‘

Marina and the girls rushed past the maid into the nursery where Amanda was wailing like she was ten seconds removed from death. Oliver had been placed in another bed on the other side of the room. A nursemaid jumped up from beside Amanda’s bed.

‘Oh, my lady –‘

But Marina didn’t listen, instead lifting her daughter out of bed. There was a big bruise already forming on her very small head.

Marina’s fingertips shook above Amanda’s head, her lip trembling.

‘Oh my baby, oh my child. How could you, how could you, your father would never do such a thing!’ Marina cried, angrily looking at Oliver as she held her crying daughter against her chest.

Eloise didn’t find it very fair, the baby was barely half a year and hadn’t done it deliberately. He probably didn’t even understand what Marina was saying.

‘Didn’t his father fight in a war?’ Eloise whispered to Penelope.

‘That’s a wholly different thing. Hush.’

‘You abominable child. Beating your own sister!’ Marina continued, sinking through her knees and rocking her daughter against her chest.

‘Like that’s a strange thing to do to a sibling’, Eloise muttered quietly, remembering all the bruises the Bridgertons had delivered to each other.

‘My baby, hush now, oh. Whatever more could have happened? Had the blow been to your eye, nose or mouth. Or more blows!’

Marina’s posture stiffened as she looked at her other child again.

‘I could have lost her. I could have lost her. My baby, you are all I have left!’ she cried to her children. ‘You’re all I’ve got left of him, don’t hurt each other. I can’t bear the thought of seeing you wounded or losing you.’

Eloise exchanged an awkward look with the two maids. Marina started crying along with her baby. This was a private scene. Eloise doubted they could do much good here. So she grabbed Penelope’s shoulder and dragged her away.

Eloise and Penelope felt uneasy after the shocking turn of events that afternoon, and spent hours together on Eloise’s room, reading books and pretending like Marina wasn’t in all likelihood still crying a floor above them. By eight o’clock a maid knocked on their door, asking whether they were interested in supper.

‘We? But doesn’t that depend on the lady of the house?’ Penelope asked.

The maid looked at the floor somewhat guiltily.

‘Her ladyship doesn’t feel fit for supper from time to time. Or decides to have it in her room. By now we’ve established that if she hasn’t asked for it by seven thirty, we ask the lord if we should go ahead and serve it anyway. But the lord is currently away visiting friends so…’

With Sir Phillip gone and Marina apparently still unfit, it was up to the guests to demand the servants to prepare supper. Penelope and Eloise exchanged a look. They couldn’t go without food. The sweets and pastries had kept them filled for a while but Eloise’s belly had started protesting about half an hour ago.

‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. No need for a lot of fuzz. Please, we’d be happy to take our supper in the kitchen.’

‘Yes, no need for a dining room if it’s just the two of us.’

Eloise didn’t even wish to start to imagine what that would be like, her and Penelope sitting in a dining room alone as if they were the ladies of the house, two servants standing vigil behind them, another two bringing up plates of food. It really wasn’t fair to make four servants and the entire kitchen work to entertain two eighteen year olds who weren’t even being hosted.

So they had broccoli soup and turkey with green beans in the kitchen where it was nice and cosy as the servants were doing the dishes. After dinner Penelope decided to check in on Marina. Eloise, who didn’t feel it was her place to invade during such a private time, instead read some more in her room.

The night passed, and come morning the worst seemed to be over. Marina sat in the breakfast parlour, two separate play pens beside the table.

She looked tired, so Eloise decided against asking her whether she’d slept well. But with Penelope and Marina so quiet, Eloise felt compelled to take it upon herself to end the silence.

‘I slept very well. It’s so quiet and peaceful out here in the country.’

‘Oh yes, and I awoke to the wonderful sound of the birds. I had my window opened as I got ready. Only birds to be heard, no carriages or talking people or obnoxious clocks’, Penelope agreed.

‘Yes, quite quiet’, Marina muttered.

Marina kept her eyes on her children as she moved her spoon through her oatmeal.

‘Amanda looks much improved’, Penelope noticed cheerfully.

‘She has a bruise’, Marina pointed out.

There was something unsettling in her eyes. Something almost… dead.

‘It’ll fade. I’ve had plenty of bruises. Broken bones even, children are menaces. But she’ll live, she’s strong.’

‘She has to’, Marina said, voice shaking. ‘She has to live.’

‘It’s probably nothing but… Can’t blame a mother for worrying.’

The odd atmosphere remained, although all tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

‘It’s a lovely day outside’, Penelope said sometime around two.

‘Perhaps we could have a walk?’

‘I’m not leaving the children behind’, Marina decided.

‘You don’t have to. Perhaps we could push them in a pram?’

Marina nodded. ‘Yes. We could.’

With the assurance she could keep an eye on her children, they decided to get ready for a walk.

Marina didn’t care who pushed Oliver’s, but she decided to keep a hold of Amanda’s pram.

The birds and crickets were active, and the sun was pleasant without being too strong.

‘Oh, that house over there looks lovely’, Penelope noticed when they climbed atop a slope just a bit away from the lake.

‘That’s the Forrester’s house. They moved in just a couple of months ago. Mrs. Forrester invites me over for tea from time to time.’

‘Oh, that’s nice’, Penelope said.

‘Yes, she is’, Marina admitted.

They walked on.

‘Perhaps we could invite her for tea this week’, Marina suggested.

Penelope answered with enthusiasm but before Eloise could answer Oliver, who had been fuzzy before, started making more noise. Eloise couldn’t fathom why, nothing had changed. The sun wasn’t in his eyes, there was no wind, his blankets were still the same, he hadn’t thrown his cuddle toy away. He must just be in a little mood.

‘What is it, Oliver?’ Eloise asked as she continued.

‘What do you want to say?’

Oliver let out a little wail.

‘Yes, come on, do your best.’

He let out a louder one. Eloise almost laughed, but Marina came over with a pained expression.

‘Oliver. Oliver. What is it?’ she asked, touching her child. He beat her hand away, continuing his noises.

Marina closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

‘Please Oliver, everything’s alright.’

Oliver did not agree.

Marina trembled.

‘I can’t do this. I can’t… they do this all the time, crying without reason. I apologize. I need to get Amanda away. If one hears the other crying they always join in and encourage each other to continue’, Marina said.

‘It’s fine’, Eloise assured her.

‘I’ll try to get him to stop. I’m sorry, I don’t know why he got started.’

Marina nodded, returning to Amanda and pushing her away from her crying brother.

Eloise frowned at the baby, whose face was scrunched in concentration.

‘In want of attention, eh?’

The baby let out an angry wail.

‘Oh yes. Certainly’, she said, pretending she understood him.

‘I bet you’re jealous you’re not getting your mother’s attention. It’s a nice technique. Gregory often pretended he was hurt to get mother to fuzz over him’, Eloise explained as she pushed him forward. ‘Bonus points if he could pretend one of us had hurt him. But you can’t do that yet.’

The baby shook its fists.

‘Uh huh. Come on, give me your best performance. Yes, that’s a very convincing portrayal of anger and grief, with your face turning pink. But I must say that raspberry colour isn’t very becoming on you. I’d almost think you’ve been neglected for a full year.’

Eloise paused, rolling her eyes. Marina was far away enough.

‘Wee weee wee, you see, I can do it too’, Eloise said after giving a convincing mimic of his cries. The baby paused, looking up at Eloise in shock.

‘Yeah, it looks kind of silly, don’t you think?’

He moved but didn’t make noise.

‘You just really want attention, don’t you?’

She raised her arms towards him and he immediately started trying to push himself up, small arms reaching for her.

He was quiet as soon as he was in her arms. He looked around in fascination, drinking in the landscape.

‘Pen, could you take over the pram?’

Penelope rushed back, taking over from Eloise as Eloise continued carrying the child who was now very happy.

Eloise rolled her eyes.

‘I can’t believe I fell for this emotional sabotage’, she sighed.

In the evening Marina once again barely touched her food as she looked at her children.

Penelope and Eloise were just having an innocent conversation about which vegetables they liked best when Marina finally decided to talk after over twenty minutes of silence.

‘It was good of you to help with Oliver this afternoon, Eloise.’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘You managed to get him to quiet very fast. Sometimes I don’t manage for hours.’

Eloise had a feeling that was not so much a compliment as it was a critique to herself.

‘Sometimes they stop sooner, sometimes later. Babies don’t make a lot of sense.’

‘Still, I should be able to. I’m his mother.’

‘Marina, I’ve no doubt they love you’, Penelope said.

But it was to no avail. After dinner, Marina decided to focus on Oliver, leaving Amanda to Penelope and Eloise. After enough hair pulling, pushing and prodding to make Eloise and Penelope desperate, the children were finally put to bed.

‘Certainly, after a full day of being with them without real accident, and now she’s seen that Amanda is fine, she will be alright tomorrow?’ Eloise asked.

‘I hope so. She was probably still somewhat shaken from yesterday’, Penelope agreed.

The next day, somehow, it had gotten worse.

Marina wasn’t downstairs by the time Eloise and Penelope went down.

‘Shouldn’t we call a doctor?’ Penelope asked, even though she knew Marina was not truly ill.

The servant blushed.

‘We can’t, miss.’

‘What do you mean, you can’t?’ Penelope inquired, leaning forward as she always did when she smelled a secret.

‘The doctor doesn’t want to come by anymore when our lady is just having a nervous complaint. He has been asked to visit too many times the past year. But please, we are not supposed to talk of our employers.’

Penelope froze, face growing pale.

‘We shall not tell, thank you’, Penelope said.

‘There was something else, a letter for Miss Bridgerton’, the servant said, giving the letter to Eloise before fleeing the room.

Eloise saw the letter was of Edwina, but decided to wait with reading it.

‘All this time… I had hope. I thought it was going better. I told myself it would get better. That she could still get better and happier and that I hadn’t… that I hadn’t…’

Penelope slumped down, burying her face in the palms of her hands.

‘Hey, what is it?’

‘It’s my fault, this is my fault’, Penelope cried.

‘No, no. It’s no one’s fault. She got pregnant by accident so she had to find a husband. You couldn’t do anything about that. And then Whistledown leaked it and ruined her. You couldn’t have done anything. The only people who could be blamed, as Marina said, were herself, her lover and… Lady Whistledown.’

Penelope sobbed.

‘To be honest, I think even that blame is misdirected’, Eloise said. ‘It’s society’s fault. We don’t know how to become with child, so we don’t know how to avoid it. Personally, when you first told me the story I was terribly afraid I could catch it. Now I know I can’t but it’s still scary. And it’s society who decided to punish a woman for sleeping with a man outside of marriage while men can have mistresses both before and after marriage. It’s a horrible double standard. Society forced Marina into her life, not you. Don’t blame yourself.’

‘But I could have helped.’

‘How? You didn’t do anything?’

Eloise didn’t understand why Penelope was so worked up. She could understand Penelope wanting her friend to be happy. She could understand Penelope wanting to support her friend by visiting, but this blame made no sense.

Penelope shook her head.

Great, now Eloise was stuck with two sad women. It was easier to deal with a crying babe. Those were simple creatures.

Eloise sat down beside Penelope, rubbing her back as she read Edwina’s letter, her eyebrows creeping up with every new line.

Penelope’s crying lessened.

Good, Eloise thought, she was sure this bit of news would guarantee Penelope’s crying would be a thing of the past. She could never focus on herself in the face of enticing news.

‘Better?’

‘Yes, I apologize.’

‘Think nothing of it. Want to talk about it?’

‘It’s silly’, Penelope muttered, wiping her eyes with her napkin.

‘Alright. I received a letter from Edwina.’

‘Edwina?’ Penelope asked before taking a sip of water and dabbing her eyes again.

‘Yes. Edwina Sheffield.’

‘I know who Edwina is’, Penelope said.

‘Edwina is engaged.’

‘Engaged?’ Penelope pressed, turning fully towards Eloise. Eloise bit her lip to keep from grinning. She knew that would work.

‘Mhm.’

‘Well?’ Penelope pressed.

‘Well what?’ Eloise teased.

‘To whom?’

‘Mr. Bagwell.’

‘Mr. Bagwell?’ Penelope asked.

‘Mr. Bagwell’, Eloise smiled, as if that explained everything.

‘The Mr. Bagwell from your mother’s party at your country home?’

‘The very same.’

‘But who is he? I don’t know any other Bagwells. And he wasn’t prominent at balls.’

‘Oh, he didn’t go to many. He isn’t a big name at all’, Eloise explained, keeping back as many details as possible.

‘But Edwina is this season’s biggest catch’, Penelope protested. ‘I mean, all the bachelors who wanted to settle this season were after her. Lords, sirs, your brother’, Penelope reminded.

‘Didn’t her sister tell us she wanted a love match with someone who had similar interests?’

‘A scholar’, Penelope agreed.

Eloise grinned, Penelope never forgot a face or words.

‘Yes. This Mr. Bagwell is an archaeologist who’s been to Greece twice.’

‘An archaeologist’, Penelope muttered.

‘Yes, apparently now that Kate’s married to my brother, she felt no qualms marrying for love to a plain old mister’, Eloise explained.

‘She’ll be happy then’, Penelope decided.

Eloise grinned, Penelope’s face was still a bit pink from crying but she had now fully forgotten her sadness. Time to deliver the final blow.

‘She is, she accepted him just days after he wrecked their carriage and almost killed them all.’

‘Wait, what?!’ Penelope demanded to know.

‘Oh yes, he and Edwina wanted to go on a ride, and Kate joined in to escort them, but the carriage tipped over. He was fine, Edwina got some bruises, but Kate broke her leg.’

‘Oh my god! And you only tell me this now!’

‘Why, I only just received this letter’, Eloise grinned.

‘Eloise Bridgerton. That is the type of news you’re supposed to start with.’

‘Why, everything is fine now, isn’t it?’ Eloise smirked.

‘Oh you… You Bridgerton!’ Penelope growled.

Eloise grinned.

‘So, do you know more about this Mr. Bagwell?’ Penelope asked.

‘Sure do. He looks pleasing enough. He’s a bit shy and awkward – ‘

‘How typical. I have yet to meet the first scholar who is actually sociable’, Penelope grinned.

‘Oh, you’re so judgy.’

‘Like you’re not?’ Penelope shot back.

Eloise only offered her a wicked grin.

‘Well, excelling in one area always comes at the price of lacking in another’, Eloise decided.

‘So, what would your brothers then lack, given they’re sociable, witty and humorous.’

‘They’re impulsive choleric rakes who don’t have the patience to sit still and read a book. Mind, they’re not dumb, but scholarly? Absolutely not. It takes them months to finish a single book. If they can choose between reading a good book and improving themselves or a night out drinking at a party, they always choose the latter. I can’t tell you how often I took books from the library with dust on the spine but a bookmark somewhere in the middle. Completely abandoned, clearly.’

Penelope laughed.

‘I pity Kate. Anthony is quite the challenge to take on.’

‘Eloise, you’re awful.’

‘What? It’s true. I’ll be so honest to admit I recognize that I am no treat either.’

‘Put softly’, Penelope grinned.

‘At least they’ll never be bored’, Eloise grinned.

‘Definitely. He’ll live in fear of your antics and rants every day.’

‘Hey, I take offense at that. There’s more to me than my antics and rants. I can be proper and pleasant if I want to. No Daphne material, but I can be nice. I can write letters and do calculus and I helped mother and the maids with the two infants when I was all but eight!’

‘I know, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing you’, Penelope smiled.

‘So, tell me more about him.’

‘Well, before you interrupted me I was going to say that he was clever enough and could hold himself in conversation despite being a bit awkward. He’s not the most humorous but he’s very sweet. He looks at Edwina with the utmost adoration and Edwina knew it. She was sometimes deliberately nice to him. But nice in such a way you knew she was doing it just to tease him, and it always worked. He stammered or became clumsy. But he was always so eager to please her.’

‘Sounds like a dream’, Penelope smiled.

‘Quite’, Eloise smiled. ‘I certainly understand her choice more than Kate. He was so open in his affection. And he has a brain. I only talked to him twice and although our topics of interest are quite different I could just keep listening to him. He’s the kind of person you just know that you’ll never run short of conversation with. And will actually learn a thing or two from. I could never marry a boring man who could talk of nothing but parties, horses, food and the weather.’

Penelope just smiled.

‘You want a scholar for yourself?’

‘He needn’t be a scholar as long as he reads a lot and stimulates his mind. I put so much work into becoming more well read and accomplished myself I don’t believe I could be satisfied with someone who has no cares for nurturing their minds. And they’d never understand me.’

Penelope nodded empathically.

‘Could you? Imagine you were with someone like Colin who does nothing but make jokes, play with the infants and talk of food’, Eloise laughed.

Penelope giggled.

‘Imagine.’

‘You’re just so clever and curious and inquisitive, a mind like yours would be wasted on him’, Eloise continued. If Penelope’s smile decreased, Eloise didn’t notice.

‘But aren’t you wasted on a scholar as well? You who loves the big city, visiting people and gossiping all day long. I doubt there’s many scholars who enjoy that.’

‘Mhm. Good thing I’m not getting married anytime soon. No need to compromise on anything. Oh look, a carriage’, Eloise pointed out.

It was the Crane carriage. And indeed, not long after, they could hear boots in the hallway.

Sir Phillip appeared in the doorway, his face a mixture of surprise, confusion and awkwardness as he bowed before the ladies. He was dressed very well, but his stance radiated unease.

‘Ladies, good morning.’

‘Sir Phillip’, they said as they rushed to stand and curtsied.

My ehm… wife, is not with you.’

Eloise bit her cheek. Could they say? She was his wife, he would find out soon enough. Yet it felt weird to tell this man his wife was still upstairs because of… reasons.

‘We… had no choice but to start breakfast alone. We’ve given our apologies to the servants but we were hungry and Marina is yet to come down.’

Sir Phillip closed his eyes and nodded.

‘I see. There is no need to apologize. Trust me when I say I understand.’

He knew, Eloise realized. Worse, his words and attitude indicated this was far from new to him.

‘I will go upstairs now’, he only said. The ladies nodded, and he left as abruptly as he had arrived.

‘He is ever so odd’, Penelope couldn’t help but say. ‘No enquiries to our wellbeing, _no bon appetite_ , no excusing himself. I mean, we don’t say that in our house when it’s just ourselves. But we’re his guests.’

Eloise nodded.

‘According to your logic he must be very clever to make up for such lacking in social graces.’

Eloise laughed heartily.

Marina was down for dinner that evening. She was even less vocal than the previous day, and quietly stirred her soup as Penelope and Eloise tried desperately to get both her and Sir Phillip to talk. From Sir Phillip they could elicit some anecdotes of his stay at his friend’s house over in Cornwall. He talked about his friend’s – a fellow botanist – garden to quite some detail, but this time Marina gave no sign of irritation and just continued picking her food.

They continued conversation after dinner, when the children were once again unleashed upon everyone.

‘Edwina Sheffield wrote to me today, she’s the sister of my brother Anthony’s wife. She’s engaged to Mr. Bagwell’, Eloise informed Marina.

Marina hummed, quietly rocking Oliver.

‘He’s an archaeologist who’s been to Greece a couple of times.’

‘To Greece?’ Sir Phillip suddenly asked. Amanda was trying to crawl to his shoulder but he kept her in a good hold.

‘Yes?’ Eloise said, confused.

‘Will he go there again, sometime soon?’

‘I don’t know. But uhm… probably. That’s where the digging happens… Don’t most excavations happen in Italy and Greece?’

‘I’ve always had an interest in Garrigue and other kinds of Mediterranean vegetation.’

Ah, there was the link. Eloise nodded.

‘He said Greece looked beautiful’, Eloise said.

‘Why? Would you like him to take home some bushes and trees?’

‘No need for whole bushes, I’m sure that’s impossible. But perhaps… Well, I don’t wish to presume, I don’t know the fellow. And I am no one to him… But I did always wish for some seedlings so I could try growing some plants over here. They’re even capable of surviving outside in winter. Oh well…’

Eloise told herself she’d talk to Mr. Bagwell about it. After all Sir Phillip given her, she owed him one. And Edwina was technically family now, so she could ask.

But before she could answer Amanda wriggled almost tumbling over his shoulder, and Phillip had to quickly grab a hold of her. She let out a cry of displeasure.

‘Watch it! Be careful. She’s already bruised’, Marina called out.

‘Yes, I noticed. How come?’ Phillip asked.

‘Oliver hit her with a toy’, Marina said, rushing over and brushing her daughter’s forehead.

‘We must be gentle with them’, she whispered, tenderly rubbing Amanda’s head.

‘I’m sure she’s fine, it’s only a bruise.

‘Your child just beat your child. You should be worried for her’, Marina hissed.

‘I do worry for them. But she is fine right now’, he said, confusion written on his face.

‘I would think you of all people should be against children being injured’, Marina hissed.

Penelope and Eloise exchanged a glance, intrigued. What was she insinuating?

‘I do care, Marina, you know that. But it has happened. What do you desire of me.’

‘Utmost care. And help making sure Oliver doesn’t injure her further.’

‘He’s a baby, I don’t think he’d understand if I explained.’

‘Then they must be kept apart unless supervised until he’s old enough to understand when we explain him’, Marina decided, irrationally.

‘Alright’, he just said.

‘You agree, don’t you?’

‘I don’t want to see either of them injured’, he merely said.

Phillip let go of Amanda as Marina took her over. He looked at his great big hands with a grimace, nodding to himself.

The next day, it only became worse. Marina didn’t come down for either breakfast, lunch or supper.

When Penelope went upstairs to talk to Marina in her bedroom, Eloise remained behind on the terrace outside with her book. It was eight o’clock but it was still very light outside. She paused when she noticed something moving from the corner of her eye. It was Sir Phillip, who came from his greenhouse in nothing but an old shirt and a green stained waistcoat. He paused when he spotted Eloise, and awkwardly pushed back his hair with his muddy hand, which only put mud on his forehead and hair. Eloise tried and failed not to laugh.

‘He looked back at his hand, noticed the mud, and sighed.

‘A poor excuse for a baronet’, he sighed, sitting down on another chair.

‘Like a baronet comes accompanied with certain character traits and looks’, Eloise noted dryly.

‘They’re expected to come paired with that’, he pointed out.

‘I’ve seen fat ones, skinny ones, bulky ones, fair ones and ugly ones. Kind ones and pompous ones. Trust me, if I know one who is truly as a baronet is expected to be, it is a lot.’

‘I… Thank you?’

‘You’re welcome’, she grinned.

‘You are by yourself’, he noticed.

‘Penelope is upstairs with Marina.’

He nodded, rubbing his hands together to get some dirt off of them.

‘She is not always like this. She has good days. She was fine when I left.’

‘She was fine when we arrived. Oliver beating Amanda must have shook her.’

He nodded. Always that boring nod. Eloise sighed and decided to push for a conversation, since she wouldn’t be getting any with the others.

‘I could ask Mr. Bagwell for some plants, when he goes again. But I take it you’re not looking for just about any plant.’

‘I can’t ask that.’

‘Sir Phillip, you have taken the trouble of sending your friend for his college studies, and took the pains of paying for it to be sent to me. Accept those meagre plants, if you please, I feel indebted to you. He’s part of my extended family now, I can ask him.’

Sir Phillip nodded.

‘Would you remember if I told you what plants I looked for?’

‘Probably not, unless I know those plants.’

‘I’ll make a list, with drawings, that you can give him. But only if he goes, and they happen to be near where he is located. He needn’t trouble himself too much.’

‘Alright’, Eloise agreed.

‘And I must again thank you for sending everything over. That was really too kind of you. I’ve learned so much. And those books. Absolutely amazing. Great for my language skills too, they’ve become quite dusty since I was last tutored. Reading Italian and French has certainly helped. Not that it was easy, I was often in need of a dictionary while reading but I managed. And the notes… All books suddenly made so much more sense. It was at the same time so logical, yet novel. It wasn’t hard to understand at all. I thought university was hard. But if this is it I’m to be honest even more mad that we can’t attend, I would have breezed through it. But at least I feel like I am usefully occupied now. And I know so much more. So much more things make sense now. It’s like my understanding of the world has just expanded. And it’s so queer, I see logic and connections in everything now. Almost all names of shops and taverns refer to something language or literature related. And so many plays and books are inspired by something else, or reference it! It’s everywhere. Is that how you are with plants? Wherever you go you are reminded of your studies? It’s just amazing. I’m very pleased indeed. Thank you so much’, she rattled, pausing, and looking to her side.

He waited, just staring at her. Eloise raised her eyebrows.

‘Oh, I did not know my input was required’, he only said. He then frowned.

‘My friend gave me everything when I visited him in March. There’s still an entire shelf filled with the rest in the library. You can take it with you, if you wish.’

‘Oh my mm , yes, thank you! More? Amazing. I was really savouring the last few because I thought I was almost through with everything. But… I have so many questions. I wrote it down. I have a list of all kinds of thoughts and questions and remarks with every book and every set of notitions. The more I learn the more questions I have.’

‘I cannot answer them. I don’t know the topic’, he merely said.

‘I know you don’t. Do you have his address? Could I write to him? Of course I can’t. Whether he’s married or not it wouldn’t do to write to a gentleman as an unmarried maid. Whoever invented all these silly societal rules of who can talk and write to whom and when must have been looking for excuses to avoid conversation. Really, what benefit does it have to restrict people from speaking to one another?’

‘For someone who asks so many questions, you do leave little room for replies’, he pointed out.

Eloise had the decency to blush.

‘You are right in that he would not reply. But I remember that many of my professors accepted readings and presentations in exchange for coin.’

‘Oh yes! I know there are women’s readings clubs and gentlemen clubs where interesting people are invited to. But I can’t host such a thing. Mother could, but she has no interest for it. Oh, but Daphne sometimes organises a party for some of the upper crust young ladies of society. Perhaps I could suggest one afternoon for literature to her. That would make her look like such a patroness of fine arts, she’d approve of that, no doubt, and then I can ask all my questions in person.’

She looked at Phillip, who said nothing in approval or disapproval.

‘No input?’

‘Did I not just give it?’

This man had no sense for polite conversation. But she supposed she could not call her host strange.

‘Could you show me what shelf, please?’ she asked.

Direct orders and concrete questions apparently did work for him.

Men, simple creatures.

‘Ah, yes. I suppose I could. Follow me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of dislike how in TSPWL Marina is portrayed as if she's always been depressed and sad since childhood. I liked that she had a bit more fire in her in the Bridgerton series, but she was also never very stable in the show. So I've tried setting up a Marina who has good days when she tries to find some good things in her life, while also giving room to her stormy temperament we saw in the show, with the appearance of depressive episodes coming and going.


	7. Chapter 7

**_June 1815, a day before Lady Bridgerton’s masquerade ball_ **

> _**This Author waits with bated breath to see what costumes the ton will choose for the Bridgerton masquerade. It is rumored that Eloise Bridgerton plans to dress as Joan of Arc, and Penelope Featherington, out for her third season and recently returned from a visit with Irish cousins, will don the costume of a leprechaun. Miss Posy Reiling, stepdaughter to the late Earl of Penwood, plans a costume of mermaid, which This Author personally cannot wait to behold, but her elder sister, Miss Rosamund Reiling, has been very close-lipped about her own attire.** _
> 
> _**As for the men, if previous masquerade balls are any indication, the portly will dress as Henry VIII, the more fit as Alexander the Great or perhaps the devil, and the bored (the eligible Bridgerton brothers sure to be among these ranks) as themselves—basic black evening kit, with only a demi-mask as a nod to the occasion.** _
> 
> _**LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 5 JUNE 1815** _

‘How on earth did she find out!’ Eloise cried out, throwing Lady Whistledown’s paper away. But since it was paper, it could not dramatically be thrown far away, and instead fluttered straight into the butter.

Her brother Benedict, who sat beside her, picked it up.

He stroked his chin, lips quirked upwards with amusement as he read what the mysterious gossip had written this time.

Eloise noticed his fingers were still smudged with paint. That explained why Eloise had not heard him come home last night. She’d tried prying information about his mysterious drawing and painting from him, but he’d kept his lips tightly shut. And thus Eloise’s detective work had only delivered limited results.

What she knew was the following: Benedict painted, as was evidenced by the stains on his hands. This painting happened at Lord Grenville’s house, this she knew by asking the Bridgerton coachman who brought him to and from. And at these painting nights, creators from all layers of society met. On one very successful evening she had managed overheard a lady sigh about her sister attending another “cursed painting class”. She had managed to track the lady down for a private conversation sometime after, and once she’d explained with a sigh that her brother also attended painting classes _very_ late at night, the gates of information had opened for her and it was revealed that Lord Grenville’s painting classes were not just about painting, but also about meeting fellow “alternative” people without being constrained by the boundaries and rules of polite society. Eloise could only guess what social rules and practices were going on behind the polite exterior of the painting sessions, but it was good information. Apparently, her brother had managed to take her advise and “be bold” and do as he pleased.

What she got from Benedict, after asking the same annoying question twenty times, was that his friendship with Madame Delacroix had “lessened”, whatever that meant.

‘I barely told a soul! Only the seamstress, the servants, our family and Penelope knew’, Eloise huffed in annoyance.

‘Nothing escapes Whistledown’, Benedict grinned.

Eloise huffed. This was the third year the gossip column circulated and no one was any closer to solving it, not even the queen.

But Eloise had not given up on searching.

Instead of only focussing on Whistledown’s identity, she had now decided on looking at the broader picture.

In a notebook she had written down a list of events Whistledown did not mention, then ones she mentioned in passing, and then ones she described in detail. Her theory was that Whistledown was always present at the ones she reported in detail, and probably didn’t attend the ones she barely wrote about. While the guest list of every event was enormous, the list of women currently without child or husband – which would give Whistledown time to write – was not that large, and the list of women who attended all the widely reported events was even smaller.

Second she took note of all the news Whistledown reported, and how fast it took for her to report it. Bridgerton news featured in almost every column of hers, Eloise granted her that most of the ton was interested in Bridgerton news and thus, Whistledown could merely hurry to report on them since she knew this was what the people wanted to read. Yet, she could not help but feel that Whistledown had to be close. She had reported upon three Bridgerton pregnancies by now, announcing everyone before they had even managed to inform most of their direct circle.

So either Whistledown had a network of eyes and ears, and paid good coin for rumours from prominent households – a possibility Eloise did not exclude – or she had to be relatively close to the Bridgertons.

Eloise swore to write this down as another piece of proof. The list of people who knew her costume was so small, and she knew her family would never sell out information about itself, but she also had little reason to mistrust the servants or Penelope.

‘Who cares, we’re Bridgertons, everyone will see through our disguises anyways, even if we wear a mask’, Colin shrugged before biting down on some toasted bread that was more jam than toast.

‘It’s a matter of principle’, Eloise huffed.

Penelope. One of the fifty names that kept reappearing time and time again. Eloise included her just to be inclusive, but it could not be her. For starters Whistledown said she had not attended the Bridgerton country party during which Anthony and Kate had gotten engaged, and her mother had been an eyewitness to the “bee accident”, she could have reported the full story. But then doing so would have easily given away her identity, so that could be an excuse to pretend she hadn’t attend. However, Eloise had more to the defence of her friend.

Why would she report about herself and her own family so often, and in such a bad light? Lady Whistledown’s column had almost succeeded in ruining her entire family’s reputation. It had taken them years to rebuild their dignity and be invited into most households once again.

Lastly, Penelope cared deeply about Marina. She could not fathom sweet Penelope would ever deliberately ruin her friend. It was evident she still felt so sorry for the way Marina’s name had been tarnished beyond redemption.

‘Principles, principles. Really, with the way you judge society like you’re in charge of the final reckoning, the way you jump onto the barricades to defend your causes, and the way you take every opportunity to monologue about the power of women, demanding a fair and equal world, half of society could have guessed your costume’, Benedict smirked.

‘Perhaps we should tie her to a pole again’, Colin suggested. ‘For authenticity.’

Eloise stuck out her tongue, which earned her a deep sigh from her mother.

‘Please, Eloise. Act your age, it is not becoming of a lady.’

Her mother rarely demanded her to act like anything. So most times when her mother begged her to behave in a certain fashion, she obliged, but this time, she couldn’t agree.

‘Apparently this very unbecoming lady still manages to amass enough suitors. So I’m fine, mother.’

‘Suitors don’t know you properly. You dance a couple of times with them, speak in public settings about the weather and music, you don’t really know who you’re dealing with. You haven’t allowed a single suitor to court you yet’, Colin pointed out, dropping his playfulness for a second. He had become quite jaded after the Marina ordeal, and didn’t much trust the façade people put up in public anymore.

‘What are you insinuating?’ Eloise demanded to know.

‘During a courtship, they would get to know you better’, he explained. ‘And if they find out about your true meddlesome pedantic persona, they might yet run.’

‘Might?’ Benedict grinned.

‘Will, if it’s early enough to run without scandal’, Colin grinned.

‘Boys’, Violet Bridgerton said, raising her eyebrows at them in a stern manner.

They lowered their eyes to their plate and started eating.

‘It’s too late to change your costume, Eloise’, her mother said.

‘I know. And I don’t want to change it. I’m just… annoyed.’

‘It will still look beautiful. Whether people know what you’re going as or don’t, doesn’t change that it is a beautiful costume.’

‘Yes’, Eloise sighed. ‘I know.’

‘I have half a mind to forbid Whistledown during breakfast, it is always cause for gossip and frustrations and can put everyone in a bad mood for the rest of the day, before the clock has even struck ten in the morning’, her mother sighed.

‘That wouldn’t work’, Benedict pointed out.

Her mother arched another eyebrow.

‘Hyacinth wakes up early on Whistledown column days just to hunt down the servant who fetched it. She reads it before half of us are out of bed. Good luck intercepting her. And once she knows, it will be unfair to forbid us from reading it until after breakfast.’

‘She does?’

Lady Bridgerton looked at her youngest child, innocently smiling at hers from the other side of the table.

‘Why am I not surprised?’ Violet Bridgerton sighed.

‘Because you’ve raised us and live with us every day?’ Francesca asked.

Her mother gave the third daughter a look that made the daughter simultaneously blush and grin.

‘Alright, if you’ll excuse me. I will spend my morning occupied with something else than a gossip column. I advise all of you to do the same’, Violet informed her children.

Eloise did decide to do something useful with her day. Not much later she had seated herself behind her desk. On the edge of her desk lay a collection of eight envelopes tied together with a purple ribbon. The ninth letter was currently laying in front of her.

This would be her ninth letter of response. It was not a lot, but it was still a lot more than was proper between a married man and an unmarried lady. But no one else knew, not even Lady Whistledown. In truth she had not planned to make their letters a permanent thing but it had just happened. He was the first one who’d taken her interests seriously. The only one who didn’t complain when she ranted about her passions. If he just so happened to be a married man, so be it.

She’d read the ninth letter over ten times, but still hadn’t managed to come up with a response, which was odd, given that _she_ usually answered his letters within five days. Sir Phillip was the one who took weeks to answer. She could understand that. He had a wife, two young children and a house to run, she was a low priority. She also knew it probably took him a while to come up with responses. In real life he was awkward, prone to long stretches of silences and short sentences, in his letters he appeared eloquent and charming. It was clear to Eloise he put a lot of thought and effort in his letters. It was almost sad how he clearly possessed charm and wit but couldn’t channel it in person.

She looked at the two sheets of paper in front of her, and turned one over between her fingers. It was the longest letter he’d ever written to her, he usually kept himself to one side of a sheet. Unfortunately, she barely understood a sentence of his two page letter.

In March she had convinced Daphne to host a ladies book discussion event. Scholars and writers had been invited to attend, including the one whose names just so happened to be written on the inside of Eloise’s books. She’d arrived with a whole five pages of questions. 

She had been satisfied with the answers for a while. Some of her suspicions and thoughts had been confirmed, some had been rebuked, and some answers had pointed out things she had not considered before. She reviewed the books, thoughts and theories from these new perspectives… But it was not long before she wanted her other questions answered…

She also took issue with some of the answers. To her never-ending frustration though, she probably wasn’t going to get satisfactory answers to everything. Ever. In the words of the very tired professor: “Literary sciences are about exchanging thoughts. Some of these writers died centuries ago and they did not leave behind motivational letters about what their works exactly meant. We can theorize, we can work based on what we know, but in the end we can disagree. And some questions, Miss Bridgerton, will never get answers.”

Eloise had started writing to Sir Phillip. She didn’t know who else to write to. She’d driven her family and Penelope to insanity during the two weeks after the book event so she couldn’t bother them further.

Perhaps it was unfair to bother him with it. After all, she knew he did not care for literature the way she did, but he was the one who had encouraged her studies and had provided her the access. And now he had to suffer the monster she had become because of it.

The final letter was five pages, describing how she’d gotten answers, why she was still unsatisfied, how she was still hungry for knowledge, and how she took issue with a great many points of literary theories. She also still vehemently disagreed on what constituted as a ‘great’ book. Then she had put her angry rant in an envelope, and sent it to Sir Phillip.

The answer had taken weeks. It had taken so long Eloise was certain that she wouldn’t get an answer at all. She had started feeling so guilty for the long pointless letter she had even gone out and bought him a book, sending it to him as a silent apology and as a means to change the topic.

She’d noticed it while perusing a bookshop for a new novel that might catch her fancy. The book was new, published by an Oxford professor in that very year, and although displayed on a pretty wooden holder, it was tucked away in the far back of the shop in the science section where barely a soul ever ventured. The title read: “Seeds of Change: how to transform staple kitchen garden plants into interesting crossbreeds”.

She didn’t know the next best thing about botany. For all she knew it could be the most rudimentary book ever, only repeating things that had been discovered five hundred years ago. But she hoped it wasn’t. She hoped it actually contained some new information. London was the place to buy new books, she was pretty sure it would be another two decades at least before the book would arrive at the rural one-wall-bookshop near Romney Hall. She was actually kind of pleased with herself for spotting the book. He’d sent her a stack of books and journals as tall as her forearm a year ago, and last summer she’d taken along a whole library shelf of precious study material.

Then, in May, she had finally received an answer. It had not been what she expected.

To her five pages of fury, confusion and philosophising he had answered with exactly one sentence: “ _Have you tried writing a book yourself?”_

Then, underneath that sentence, he had thanked her for the book and sent her back two pages of remarks upon the book in what she was sure was a mockery of her original letter.

At first, Eloise had been unsatisfied with the letter. She was insulted he had replied to such a long letter with one sentence while she had taken the effort to write so much down. She also felt as if she had just gotten lectured. “ _Have you tried writing a book yourself?_ ”, as if one could only critique when one tried something themselves.

Yet she became pleased after a while. Since he asked he clearly thought her capable of doing it. Perhaps he thought she could even do better, and write a book that was satisfactory to her when other authors failed to do so. It was not as if she hadn’t given the notion thought before. She had penned down everything that popped up in her head for years.

For a while she did not know what to respond. He knew she hadn’t tried writing before. Telling him she would try, would be too much like a promise she didn’t know she’d be able to keep. He could keep asking her about her writing then, and that was too much pressure.

So she couldn’t reply to his question, and she didn’t know enough about herbology to answer to his rant. She also had no wish to answer his rant, since he had not responded to her long letter.

She unscrewed the cap of her ink jar, dapped her pen into it… and sighed.

‘One day, I’ll pay you back for robbing me of words. I normally always know what to say, you infuriating man’, she sighed.

And then a thought struck, so sudden, yet so genius. She could give him a taste of his own medicine.

 _“Have you tried creating a crossbreed yourself?”_ she wrote.

If he could lock himself away in his greenhouse for so long, he might as well try to achieve actual science in it.

But because she was Eloise Bridgerton and she wasn’t as brief as him, she added another phrase saying she was glad he liked it underneath before signing off with her name.

Once the letter was sent, she started packing again. Most of her siblings let the servants take care of all the packing, and while Eloise was fine with them handling her clothes, she wanted to take care of her own more important belongings. She liked her own system of packing and ordering best.

So she unscrewed and stored away her telescope. She put away her sketches of historical events, her globe and her books. And the letters of Sir Phillip? Those she put in a small _coffre_ she once got from her father. He’d given it to her with the intention of putting jewellery in it, but it was the only thing she had that she could close with lock and key, so in went the letters. She would be dead if anyone uncovered them.

It took the entire remainder of the day. When she went to bed at night, her room felt empty, derived of personality. She traced her fingers across the pale blue wallpaper, and even buried her nose in the pastel orange curtains. She’d miss her bedroom. Back when she was seventeen, she’d wondered how a woman could just leave behind her home and family to marry a stranger. She couldn’t imagine adjusting to a household without her family in it, and memories in every room. She guessed she’d soon find out.

The ballroom looked magnificent. Unshed tears burned in her eyes when she walked through the ballroom before the guests arrived. It would be the last time her mother would ever host a ball here. The last time Eloise would walk through this room as its resident and one of the ladies of the house. It was Anthony’s right to move in but Eloise would miss it more than she’d care to admit. She didn’t like to be sentimental. It didn’t fit her outside persona. But the truth was that she had a very small heart and loved her home with her whole heart. She hated that it had to change.

In 1813 she’d lost the sister she was closest to. Daphne was still the sister she talked to most, but it just wasn’t the same dynamic anymore.

In 1814 she’d lost Anthony to matrimony.

And now in 1815 she’d lose her home. Again. Just like she’d lost her home at Aubrey Hall when her mother decided to switch to London permanently.

Noise from near the front door drew Eloise’s attention. Her sister Daphne rushed in, closely followed by her mother.

‘Oh my heart, mother, it is truly beautiful. You have done magnificently’, her ever so polite sister complimented her mother.

Violet Bridgerton’s smile was wobbly but genuine as she looked around the house, a silent tear rolling from the corner of her eye.

She hadn’t been able to stay in Aubrey due to the memories, this house had held just the right amount of memories for her to enjoy living in it. But now she would be forced to move to a house where her husband had never set foot, where there were no bittersweet memories in every corner. And somehow, Eloise believed that must be even worse.

Daphne soon teared up as well, clutching her mother. Eloise looked away, for once not wanting to make a joke.

‘Eloise,’ Daphne said, scraping her throat and dabbing her eyes with a prettily embroidered tissue, ‘you look lovely.’

She didn’t, she wore chainmail that drowned out any feminine curve she might have otherwise had and her hair was loose so it looked medieval and wild, but the compliment was appreciated.

‘And you look like an angel’, Eloise complimented. It was true, her sister even had a pair of wings on her back.

‘You both look absolutely gorgeous’, Violet Bridgerton smiled before her eyes moved to the ballroom and the opened doors leading to the terrace and the garden.

‘I’ll miss this place’, Eloise admitted.

‘So will I, dear’, Violet agreed.

‘You were bound to move anyway’, Daphne shrugged. ‘Whether it was a marriage or mother moving. None of us, except for Anthony, could have ever staid here. It is his birth privilege.’

Eloise was almost ready to explode at Daphne for insinuating that Eloise had to marry, before she understood that Daphne was not necessarily expressing approval of the way the order of birth affected them. Daphne merely accepted the way things were.

‘Lucky him’, Eloise smirked.

How easy things could be if you could just look at reality and accept it.

‘Eloise, I went over the guest list today and saw that Mr. Romany is coming tonight’, her mother said in a tone that had Eloise’s eyes rolling before she was finished speaking.

‘Lucky him that he managed to snatch an invitation for our grand farewell party. If he has any taste, he’ll enjoy himself.’

‘You have been dancing with him the entire season.’

‘Oh one dance at a ball when I happen to have a vacancy in my book here and there does not mean I want to marry him.’

‘What does it mean then?’ Daphne asked with a smile.

‘That I enjoy dancing and he’s not horrible at it!’

‘Perhaps he’s not horrible at all?’ her sister suggested.

‘He’s not awful, I grant you, unlike Sir Greene but…’

‘But what?’

‘I still know virtually nothing about him. He has no distinct personality, no passions, no occupation… We only ever talk about bland stuff like the weather.’

‘Perhaps if you would talk to him, have an actual conversation instead of talking?’ her mother suggested.

‘I tried twice, he came to call after a ball once, and approached me as we promenaded in the park a month ago as well. He’s as bland as mashed potatoes. And he also doesn’t know me. I’m quite aware that I’m a bit –‘

‘Trying?’ Daphne offered with a sweet smile.

‘Yes. And he doesn’t know me at all. He’ll be horrified and hate me. And I’ll hate him for not appreciating me or listening to me. And we’ll be miserable. If he has any brains… he’ll enjoy his evening without ruining it for the both of us.’

Mr. Romany did not have a brain. In fact, there wasn’t a single way he could have made her more miserable, and the proposal more annoying.

Eloise had been talking to Penelope and her sisters when her brother Benedict arrived, presumably to fulfil his duties as resident man of the house to dance with some of the wallflowers. However, just like virtually every other man in the room, his head turned when _she_ arrived, the woman in silver.

Eloise had never seen her brother forget his whereabouts or manners in public. It was like the Featheringtons had just stopped existing for him. Without a further word he’d turned his back on them, shoved a bunch of gawking men aside, and led away the woman in silver.

Eloise’s curiosity was piqued. Who was this woman? Where did she come from? What was Benedict going to do with her?

‘No worries Pen, I’ll make it up to you. That was a move befitting a rogue, not a Bridgerton’, Eloise swore.

She looked across the ballroom, and spotted her brother Colin not so far away. She waved him over.

‘Colin –‘

‘Mother already sent me. Miss Penelope, would you do me the honour?’

‘Oh I, well, of course’, her friend stammered, placing her hand in Colin’s.

Satisfied with the conclusion, Eloise waved her friend and Colin off before marching towards the door through which her other brother had disappeared.

‘Miss Bridgerton’, a low voice called.

Not important. She had a mystery to solve.

‘Ahem, Miss Bridgerton.’

She was almost at the door.

‘Miss Eloise’, the voice said, and now there was a hand on her arm, right at the door.

‘Mr. Romany’, Eloise greeted, plastering a fake smile on her face. ‘What a pleasure.’

‘It is. Indeed it is. Miss Bridgerton, I wondered if we could talk in private perhaps?’

‘Mr. Romany’, Eloise sighed. It was going to happen.

‘I would not usually choose a moment like this but you are quite hard to catch. You are rarely at home and at parties and soirees you are always so occupied with others.’

That was deliberate, Eloise thought.

‘In the hall perhaps?’ Eloise suggested.

Luckily, he agreed.

And finally, finally, she got a glimpse of her brother and the woman in silver.

They appeared wholly absorbed in one another. And they stood awfully close together too. Had her brother no mind for the fact that this was a crowded party? She tried to get a closer look of the woman. How could her face not ring a bell? Her mother had personally invited everyone. Eloise had to know her.

‘Miss Bridgerton, this past season, you have been a point of joy for me at every party you attended’, Sir Romany said, moving to stand right in her line of sight, obscuring the woman from view.

She tried not to look agitated.

‘I had hoped that in the future, you could be a point of joy for me at every party I attend. By my side. As my wife.’

‘Mr. Romany, this is entirely unexpected. We barely talked.’

Heavens, her brother did not even notice her, and she was clearly in distress. She was going to have to revoke her brother’s gentleman status.

‘We talked enough for me to be certain of it.’

So he was going to play this game? Fine.

‘How?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘How are you certain of it, that we match?’

Mr. Romany frowned at her like she’d sprung a second head.

‘You are a fine young woman of good breeding. And I can provide for you. I have three homes, sixteen horses, forty-two hounds, you’ll want for nothing.’

Really? They matched because he had money and she’d been born in the right household? He just scored a whopping zero points for romance and zero points for understand her question. She wanted a lot more than money from a husband. One could have enough horses to supply a whole army, but that wouldn’t make a marriage happy. If he couldn’t understand a marriage needed more than wealth to work, he’d never understand her.

‘Mr. Romany, I do not doubt that you are a good man who can provide for me –‘

‘I – ‘

‘But I cannot accept your offer. We are too different, I just realized that. I have no doubt you can make a woman very happy, but it isn’t me.’

He deflated.

‘I admit my ego is bruised.’

‘I apologize.’

‘At least my mother will now stop pestering me. My sister can try her hand at winning over one of your brothers. It’s my mother who wanted to add a Bridgerton to our family to boost our standing.’

Eloise let out a laugh.

‘Why me instead of my sister?’

‘I’m twenty-eight. I don’t fall for children.’

Eloise was only a year older, and in any other situation she would defend her sister, but she understood where he came from. There was a world of difference between the confident way Eloise carried herself, outspoken and loud, versus Francesca’s shy reserved nature. It was easy to consider the one most confident in her own skin as the more mature one.

‘Good luck Mr. Romany.’

‘And you, Miss Bridgerton.’

Alright, perhaps the proposal hadn’t been completely awful. It was nowhere near as bad as the previous one, but afterwards she’d ended up in an empty hallway with her brother nowhere in sight.

By the end of the night, Eloise wasn’t the least bit closer to solving the mystery. In fact, she feared the mystery would never be solved. The woman in silver had bolted on the witching hour – because of course – leaving her brother an empty shell for the remainder of the night.

She found him on her old swing, smoking away.

She sank down in the wet grass beside him, not caring about her costume.

Benedict wordlessly offered her one and lit it.

It was near three in the morning. The final guests were going home. The sounds of servants carrying away the refreshment table, glass breaking, and conversation floated to them through the opened ballroom doors.

Eloise looked back at Benedict. Usually she was the tense one, and he was the relaxed one who just had a smoke before bed without a care. She’d never seen her brother like this. If he noticed she was staring, he ignored it, blowing out a cloud of white smoke.

‘Do you think it’s possible to miss someone you’ve never really known?’ he asked after a while.

Another fallen soldier. All her siblings seemingly fell for another with no control over it whatsoever. Sometimes Eloise feared the moment she’d fall in love. And sometimes she feared she would never fall in love and get to experience that deep connection Daphne and Anthony had with their spouses.

She thought of Hyacinth and Gregory who didn’t remember their father.

She thought about the frustration that sometimes overcame her after another night of talking to men who did not understand or appreciate her, her heart missing someone to be valued by even though she’d never met them.

‘Yeah’, she admitted before inhaling deeply, letting the smoke go with a sigh.

Benedict nodded. A painful smile carved itself into his face. More of a grimace really, she decided as she observed him.

‘Nice.’

‘Let me know if you find a cure’, Eloise quipped.

Benedict nodded again. He chewed on his cheek, looking at the house.

‘I’ll miss it here’, he declared, dropping the topic of the woman in silver.

‘Me too. A lot.’

Eloise inhaled deeply, sucking in the dry woody taste of the tobacco. She observed the beautiful white house, almost all its windows dark by now.

‘You practically grew up here’, Benedict pointed out.

‘The children did grow up here’, she said.

This was their home. She knew every room, and had fond memories in each of them. She knew which floorboards creaked, and could even find some faint drawings on the wall papers that had not been able to be washed off completely by the servants. Wherever they moved to now would be devoid of memories. It would take years to get to know it as well as this house. And even if she got to know it, it would never be as meaningful to her as the place where she currently lived. It was a house for a bunch of adults just waiting to marry, not a family home.

‘I’ll miss living here. I’m sure I could convince Kate to let me stay, much to Anthony’s exasperation, but it wouldn’t be the same’, Eloise continued.

The corners of Benedict’s mouth pulled up.

‘Nowhere will be the same’, he admitted.

‘It has not even been the same the past two years, ever since Daphne left. But it’s still the last house where we all lived together. Christ, I barely got used to being without Daphne, then without Anthony. And now we’ll lose you, even without a marriage. _And_ the house.’

‘Which one will you miss more, me or the house?’ he teased.

He laughed, bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

‘It was time for me, Eloise.’

‘But what will I do without our midnight garden talks as we sit on the swing?’ she asked.

Benedict shot her an apologetic smile. She could see in his eyes that he regretted that. He knew what they meant to Eloise. And they also meant something to him. Eloise, of all siblings, had understood him most. The overlooked sister and the overlooked brother.

‘You could have a swing installed at the new house’, he suggested.

‘Promise to come by at least a couple of times to join me for a smoke?’ she begged. ‘Come on, you know I can’t even buy tobacco.’

‘I promise’, he laughed.

‘Why do you want to leave?’

‘I’m almost thirty, it’s time I have my own private life. Isn’t it?’

‘A woman could turn forty and she still wouldn’t be allowed a private household’, Eloise smirked. She knew such a comment would vex him.

He let out a puff of smoke, throwing her a tired look.

‘And because women aren’t allowed, I shouldn’t either?’

‘No. I was just teasing you. It would be useless to not use the freedom your sex allows you.’

Benedict inhaled, and let out a breath of smoke as he observed her.

‘Would you want it then, to live alone?’ he asked.

Eloise chewed on her cheek, giving it some thought.

Benedict dropped the remainders of his cigarette, putting them out with his boot before he turned around and around on the swing, until it was all wound up. And then he let himself twist the other way.

‘No. I don’t think I do. I dislike not having the same options as men, but I would not enjoy living in a big empty house with no one to keep me company. I’ve grown up in such a large household, I don’t think I could stand silence.’

‘That’s why a bachelor is rarely at home’, he teased.

‘You know that doesn’t make sense, right? If you decide to live alone for independence, solitude and privacy, then why spend every moment away seeking company?’

‘I believe it’s the option of privacy, when one wants it. At least for me. And I will not have to hide all my affairs from mother.’

‘Affairs?’

‘All kinds of affairs.’

Eloise grinned, and he gave her a push.

‘Get your head out of the gutter, Eloise. It isn’t becoming of a lady.’

‘Moping isn’t becoming of you, but I’m not throwing stones.’

‘You just did.’

‘Because you started’, she said, sticking out her tongue at him.


	8. Chapter 8

**_1816, somewhere in the county of Gloustershire._ **

**“Few things surprise this author. London, despite its pleasures, can sometimes be a bit boring, which is why we are all so obsessed with scandals. Today I do not write of a scandal, but that does not mean it is any less surprising. A Featherington managed to get engaged!**

**Miss Philipa Featherington is to marry Mr. Finch. Theirs has been a union long in the making. This author has it on good authority that Mr. Finch was interested in the middle Featherington since 1813. However, the untimely dead of Mr. Featherington pushed the young woman into a year long mourning period. Perhaps the young Miss was still not over the death of her dear pappa last year and wished to wait yet another year before finally entering matrimony. Now we know our favourite writer of “Pride & Prejudice” has Some Thoughts on a prolonged engagement but we will see what the future brings. **

**1816 has so far been quite unremarkable. Politics have been boring since Napoleon was defeated, and the marriage market is boring because no notorious bachelor has decided to give up his bachelorhood, and no special diamond debutante is navigating her way through her first season.**

**Perhaps today’s youth is more interested in reading the many recently published novels such as Emma, Glenarvon, and the newest Walter Scott than they are in romance. If one is called Eloise Bridgerton, one might even be more interested in writing about romance than living it. The young lady’s book “Hestia” showed she had double the amount of the “Emma” author’s wit and sharp societal critique, and less than half of her subtlety. Her book would without a doubt have been the most shocking book in years, were it not that Caroline Lambe published her Glenarvon which is all but an outright caricature of Lord Byron and his fashionable set. This Author cannot express surprise at the modern notions in “Hestia”, which is filled with clever women, arrogant men and hubris. Miss Bridgerton has by now cemented her position as one of London’s most ruthless and ambitious women.**

**As Miss Bridgerton is writing yet another book, and traveling the country for a book tour, This Author does not expect we will hear of an engagement anytime soon. It appears the fifth Bridgerton takes after her brothers more than her sisters.**

**LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 15 MAY 1816”**

Eloise, Penelope and Lady Bridgerton had been trekking through the country for three weeks now, combining sightseeing with presentations in local literary circles. Both young women had been out for over three years now, their reputations had been cemented, and they would not suddenly receive new suitors. All new bachelors on the market were younger than them, and all old bachelors they had met already. So both their mothers had agreed that they could miss some months of the London season.

They had traversed Kent, Greater London, Berkshire, Wiltshire and Somerset and had now ended up in Gloucestershire just in time for Philipa’s wedding.

The wedding would take place at Mr. Finch’s parish church and then a wedding breakfast would be held on his family estate. Followed by a walk around the grounds, an afternoon in the family maze, and a dinner. It was not at all the usual wedding, but the Finches who spent the largest part of their year in their smaller London home, rarely had the opportunity to entertain guests. So they had used the wedding to organize their first ever country party. Most guests were allowed to stay for three days, a small ball taking place on the day after the wedding and a farewell picnic – if the weather allowed it – on the third. After those three days the guests would return home or, in Eloise and Penelope’s case, go to the Crane estate for another visit. Her mother had been less than thrilled.

‘What cousin’s of Penelope do you want to stay at dear? You’ve mentioned it a couple of times throughout the years now, but I don’t believe you ever mentioned a name. Or I must have forgotten.’

‘It’s uhm… Marina Crane.’

‘Marina? As in…’

Eloise had nodded, and then her mother had frowned and shaken her head.

‘Eloise, I cannot go. That girl almost ruined and trapped Colin. She lied to all of us and broke his heart. I could overlook a certain reputation, but I cannot overlook it when someone hurts my children. Going would mean I forgive her. And I can’t.’

Eloise had expected it. Much as she understood Marina’s motivations, she knew that her actions could not be excused. Nor could her mother taint the Bridgerton name by openly visiting and thus forgiving such behaviour.

And so her mother arranged for her and Lady Featherington to visit an old friend, while Eloise and Penelope visited the Cranes.

‘My my, I did not think a romance author would genuinely avoid love’, a male voice laughed.

Eloise turned around, unable to refrain from smiling.

‘Miss Bridgerton’, Lord Wescott nodded.

‘Lord Wescott, good day.’

‘Any reason why you stood right at the back as the bouquet was thrown?’ he enquired.

‘Practical considerations, of course. I believe I have a great many stories left in me. All women of my class are expected to cease their professions the second they marry’, she smirked.

‘Did not Lady Caroline Lambe write Glenarvon? And I heard she is planning to write another. She is married. As are the ladies who write moralistic children’s books.’

‘Yes, and what do we call her and the duchess of Devonshire who also took up certain causes and patronages during her marriage?’ Eloise pushed.

He laughed, nodding in agreement.

‘Not the most charming things.’

‘And what do we think of her husband for still supporting her despite her actions?’

Lord Wescott laughed anew.

‘Alright, I admit defeat. You have proven your point. We do not talk well of them.’

Eloise, who was not the better person, couldn’t help but smile victoriously.

‘And so you wish to deny yourself matrimony to achieve your goals.’

‘Men can wait with marriage to achieve their goals, why can’t women?’

Lord Wescott pulled out a flask, taking a sip as he watched the first people starting to leave the church grounds to head over to the Finch estate.

Eloise tried not to look too judging, but it was ten in the morning!

‘Ah, but see, I can’t imagine a man who would not gladly drop his occupation when offered the opportunity.’

Eloise could not fathom wanting to stop running and reforming the country, if she was able to do it… but then again, men were stupid ungrateful creatures who did not appreciate the opportunities they were given. However, she remained silent.

‘And eh, not to be crass Miss Bridgerton, but men are not the ones carrying babies. It’s a fact older women aren’t as suited for it as younger ones. The older a woman gets, the more chances of complications and death. Men don’t expire.’

Eloise swallowed away the bile rising in her throat. So that was all women were good for? She was not just a baby-making machine with an expiration date. And she refused to sit around doing nothing her whole life, marrying young to someone she did not care for just to pump out enough children. She was more than that. And she wanted more than that too.

‘We all expire in the end, Lord Wescott. Over there is a graveyard, if you take a look around you’ll see there’s just as many dead men as dead women.’

He laughed again, clapping her on the back. Her shoulders tensed. He’d been tactile all season. And the one before as well. He’d always demanded a dance from her whenever they were at a ball together. He’d even winked at her at a musicale once. But she had not taken it personally, Lord Wescott flirted with a great many girls. She could by now, however, never feel safe around a bachelor unless she was on the dancefloor. She was certain no one had ever been proposed to while dancing.

‘Has anyone ever told you how amusing you are, Miss Bridgerton?’ he asked.

‘No, but I have been called annoying a lot.’

‘Annoying is what people who feel hurt by jokes call people who are amusing. I do not take offence so easily.’

‘How magnanimous’, Eloise decided.

He happily ignored Eloise’s sarcasm.

‘Should we follow suit?’ he asked instead, nodding at the train of wedding guests.

‘Well, personally, I’m quite hungry. So yes, let’s’, she decided. But she did hope she’d soon spot Penelope or her mother.

Lord Wescott made sure his hat was well attached to his head before starting to march, proudly tapping his decorative cane with every step he took.

Eloise determined to fashion a character after him, it was almost too easy. What would she do with him? Would he be a suitor? The exasperating husband of a married woman? The rogue in the background?

Ah, perhaps it would be entertaining to make him the oldest brother who gambled and drank his way to an early grave, leaving a ruefully unprepared younger sibling behind. A brother would have to take over the reigns of the estate, and a sister would have to quickly marry so she could keep the estate running. Perhaps the latter option was more attractive, then she could show an estate that wasn’t entailed being successfully lead by a woman. Perhaps it would push people to rethink the idea that women were not capable of inheriting and ruling an estate. That would be lovely, then she could critique drunks and the inheritance system with one stone. It would also mean she had a wealthy heiress with a lot of freedom as a protagonist. She could add in many men trying to tell her what to do, because that was what men did. And then she could sprinkle in some Greek mythology stories about how women were perfect to rule a home and were very resourceful while pursuing their goals.

‘I believe this is the first wedding I attend in five years in which the bride and groom actually liked each other’, Lord Wescott remarked, oblivious to the literary death Eloise had just planned for him.

‘Hm?’

‘Yes, it is rather queer isn’t it. They all vow to love yet most never do. Perhaps we should drop that part. Few people marry for love after all.’

‘Or perhaps people should try to live up to their vows and either marry for love or try to love their spouse after their marriage?’ Eloise suggested.

He let out a laugh.

‘A lovely idea, my dear, but that’s not likely to happen. Marriage is just a matter of good business for most of our kind. But it’s endearing to see you have such faith in it.’

Now Eloise wanted a drink, it was too early in the morning for a nihilist to ruin one of the few things she still believed in. Eloise was not a patient woman, or a kind one. She had already woken up much earlier than she liked, she was hungry, and now she was annoyed. She would not hold back anymore.

‘I simply believe people shouldn’t be forced to enter into a marriage for practical reasons. It’s not about having faith, it’s about wanting things to be right. And it is not right two people have to live together for their entire life if they have no love and respect for each other. Society should not enforce marriage as an end destination. Practicality and sense of reality be damned, why should we just accept the way things are?’

‘There there,’ Lord Wescott chuckled, retrieving his flask again and taking another sip, ‘revolution isn’t Britain’s forte, might I suggest hopping across the pond for that?’

Eloise inhaled deeply.

‘Young ladies these days really are something formidable, aren’t they, Sir Crane?’ Lord Wescott asked.

Ice ran through Eloise’s veins as she followed Lord Wescott’s line of sight to right behind them, where Sir Phillip was apparently walking all by himself. Some feet behind him she spotted Marina walking arm in arm with Penelope.

‘They are’, Sir Phillip quietly agreed, voice devoid of sarcasm.

Eloise could just die. Had he overheard her speech?

‘Sir Phillip, I didn’t mean –‘

‘I’m sure you did. I cannot fault you. In an ideal world, people are free to choose. But until we are free to choose, and are not judged for our choices by society, we should be practical’, Sir Phillip said.

Eloise bit her tongue.

‘My thoughts exactly, fellow. See, Miss Bridgerton. One can dream but one’s got to keep one’s feet on the ground’, Lord Wescott decided.

If Eloise had a single cautious bone in her body, she would have nodded, thus accepting Sir Phillip’s and Marina’s choice. However, Eloise chose to defend The Cause instead.

‘I understand that. But I just wonder how we can ever create change, if we keep accepting the way the world works and change nothing about our behaviour and morals?’

‘One should not risk being ostracized just to make a point. It is normal people wait for the rules to change before changing their behaviour. We can take into account the rules of society, and once the rules change we can act differently’, Sir Phillip decided in what had to be his most eloquent oral speech yet.

Eloise wanted to protest, after all, divorce was allowed but still everyone who tried out that option got ostracized because of public opinion. Instead, she took a deep breath, and nodded. She was learning that it was sometimes better to shut up, but it was a very hard learning process with a lot of ups and downs.

Eloise did not believe she had seen Marina smile so much in her entire acquaintance as she had that day. Which was odd, considering her husband was even more quiet and withdrawn than usual. In large companies he all but blended into the background.

‘How is your book full already?’ Penelope laughed, taking Marina’s book and going over the names. ‘You have more names now than you did when you were a debutante.’

Marina took her ball book back from Penelope’s hands. ‘Well, I certainly deserve it. I haven’t danced in years. I need to make up for that.’

Marina looked beautiful in a red gown, her dark curls pinned high on her head, spilling over the sides of her large sparkling tiara.

‘You do’, Penelope agreed.

‘How many spots do you have left, Eloise?’ Marina asked, taking some pleasure in how desired she was.

‘Some four spots left’, Eloise shrugged. ‘Suits me just fine, then I have some time to drink and catch my breath.’

‘Excuse me, Miss Bridgerton, but did I just hear you had some vacancies?’ Lord Wescott asked.

‘You did indeed’, Eloise replied, turning towards Lord Wescott.

‘Might I request you save two spots for me?’

‘Two, my lord? How bold.’

‘I am bold’, he smirked, tipping his glass at her before downing it whole. His eyes were already glazed from drinking.

‘Which ones?’ Eloise asked.

He frowned, snagging her book from her hands. ‘The fourth and the ninth one’, he decided, shoving it back in her hands.

‘Alright, Lord Wescott.’

‘I’m already looking forward to it’, he said, winking before he left.

‘Heavens’, Penelope breathed.

‘I do sure hope he won’t drink any more until your dances with him, or you’ll quadrille your way into the wall’, Marina joked.

‘He’s a decent dancer, I’ll be fine.’

‘Will you? Did you see how he winked at you?’ Penelope asked.

‘He is single, is he not?’ Marina asked. Penelope nodded.

‘But you don’t really admire him’, Penelope said.

‘I love dancing, I don’t care who it’s with. Picking a dancing partner isn’t anything like picking a husband’, Eloise shrugged.

And that was that. The first dance started and all ladies were picked up by their partners.

The dances continued and continued, until Eloise found herself in the arms of Lord Wescott for the second time. His smile was even wider than during their first time.

‘We meet again, Miss Eloise.’

‘Miss Bridgerton’, she stressed. She loathed the name, she still believed it suited her ill, but in instances like these she was glad she could use it. She did not want to be addressed by her Christian name by someone she did not care about.

‘So formal, so cold’, he smirked.

‘Actually, I feel rather warm’, she joked.

‘Oh Miss Bridgerton, so do I’, he grinned, his hand grabbing hers just a bit too tightly as they circled each other. Eloise swallowed, cotilloning into the wall would actually be preferable to this.

‘Perhaps we should cool down in the garden for a while? Catch some fresh air,’ he suggested, voice dropping.

Oh no, not _again_.

Before she could answer, he had decided for her, whisking her away.

‘Vastly superior, isn’t it?’ he asked, letting out a loud breath.

Eloise took a step away from him.

‘Yes. Ahh, I already feel much improved. You can stay here if you like but if you don’t mind I – ‘

He grabbed her wrist with surprising accuracy for someone who had to be down to his fifteenth cup of wine.

‘Now, Miss Bridgerton, we both know that was not the reason why we came outside.’

‘Lord Wescott, I assure you – ‘

‘Don’t act shy, Miss Bridgerton, it does not suit you. I know you’re clever enough to understand. And surely, such a trailblazer like you should not act shocked by someone abandoning decorum.’

Eloise cursed herself. Hiding behind empty pleasantries and propriety wouldn’t work this time.

He pulled her deeper into the garden.

‘I am perfectly capable of walking by myself, my lord’, she protested.

‘But I am perfectly capable of leading.’

Eloise wondered what it would feel like to connect her free fist to his head. Would it hurt him? Would it hurt her? It had been so long since she’d punched someone.

Eloise tried to pull her wrist free.

‘Oh, Miss Bridgerton, you are never boring, are you? I admit I like fire in a woman.’

He stumbled even though there wasn’t a thing obscuring his path in the dark.

Drunk, Eloise decided.

She had to stop arguing and start trying to flee. She was alone in a garden with a bachelor. And a party was going on inside. Anyone might walk to the terrace and spot them walking through the gardens alone.

‘Lord Wescott. Please. I demand you unhand me. This is no proper conduct.’

‘I thought you didn’t care for the rules of society.’

‘I don’t, but as we agreed this morning we need to act according to society’s rules as long as they are in place. At present the rules dictate a single man and woman are not to interact unchaperoned lest the lady’s reputation is tarnished. You know perfectly well that if we are seen, we need to wed or there would be a scandal.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing’, he laughed. ‘Miss Bridgerton, I took you here to propose to you. Marriage was the plan.’

‘I do not agree to a proposal that includes forcing a woman into marriage. Then it’s not a proposal to a woman but an obligation forced upon a woman.’

‘The garden is empty.’

‘It might not be. Gardens have been thought to be empty before.’ Her brother Anthony had made that mistake once. He was married now.

‘Miss Bridgerton.’

‘Lord Wescott I am not joking.’

‘No, you look much prettier when you’re joking.’

Eloise’s fingers wrapped into a fist.

‘Come on, my dear, Miss Eloise – ‘

‘Is there a problem, Miss Bridgerton?’ a low voice asked.

The fine hairs on Eloise’s arms rose. The voice sounded angry.

‘Actually, yes, there is a problem’, she decided, looking Lord Wescott into the eye.

‘There isn’t’, he said, voice turning combative as he stumbled towards her and slung his arm around her neck. His breath stank of wine and scotch.

Sir Phillip appeared from between the trees.

‘And whatever you are doing out here, mind your own business fellow, leave the lady and me to mine.’

‘I will leave you to your business, once I have ascertained the lady agrees with you.’

His gaze sought her out. She was dumbstruck. Why did he overhear her awful conversations twice? She had held so much better conversations, said so many witty and clever things, and now he had to overhear her stumbling like a newborn duck through a conversation with Lord Wescott twice.

Lord Wescott said nothing.

Sir Phillip said nothing.

Eloise blinked, the words registering.

‘Yes. I mean no. Whatever response signifies that I did not agree to be dragged into some dark bushes by him’, she rattled.

‘Good. Unhand her.’

‘Sir Crane. Leave us.’

‘Unhand her.’

Lord Wescott opened his mouth to respond, but before an answer got out a fist slammed into his nose. Wescott immediately released Eloise, clutching his nose, shouting a thousand very colourful profanities.

‘You you – ‘

‘You’ll leave, or we’ll make sure the story gets around to Lady Whistledown’, Eloise said calmly, taking a step closer to Sir Phillip.

Lord Wescott looked up, looking positively murderous – or murdered – with his face covered in blood from his bleeding nose.

‘Foolish girl. I’ll make sure not a single one of my friends ever considers marrying you!’

‘If they’re friends of you, they wouldn’t be my type anyways’, Eloise decided.

He stumbled away.

For a while all Eloise could do was breathe. Now that he was gone, she suddenly felt cold and uneasy, her heart still beating furiously with shock. As the conversation replayed into her head, her fury grew.

‘Miss Bridgerton –‘

‘That contemptible maggot pie! How dared he, the shit scalawag? I told him no in ten different words!’

‘Perhaps he did not have the focus to listen to ten words’, Sir Phillip suggested.

Eloise’s hands were balled, teeth clenched, and she was ready to fume some more … when she realized he was joking.

‘Clearly’, she decided, putting as much rage in the sigh she let out afterwards as she could. To no avail, she could still feel the anger pumping through her veins.

‘Is there really not a single reasonable bachelor on earth? Heavens, I don’t ask a lot of men. Just simple things; treat me nicely, don’t patronize me, and listen to me. And they can’t even manage that. A no is a no. No isn’t a hard word, is it now? Just two letters? It’s virtually one of the first words people learn! No, don’t touch that. No, don’t that. No, don’t put that in your mouth. I believe half of the words said to me in my youth were “No”, and I’m not exaggerating!’ Eloise cried, kicking a tree.

Sir Phillip chuckled.

‘Being a parent, I’m pretty sure “no” constitutes of half the words I tell my children. Including the boy.’

‘See!’ she cried, pulling at her hair in exasperation. ‘There’s no excuse to not understand a no.’

She deflated.

‘I give up. I give up. I’m so tired of men.’

‘Hm’, he merely said.

‘What hmm? You don’t believe me?’ she pushed.

Sir Phillip just stared at her, shrugging.

She raised her eyebrows.

‘It’s a bit soon to give up on an entire sex’, he said when it became clear she expected an answer.

‘Believe me, you have no idea what London bachelors are like.’

‘I am not a fan of London society as a whole. The ton is not what I base my opinions of women and men upon.’

‘But all I see is the ton’, Eloise sighed.

‘Are your brothers not part of the ton?’ he asked.

A rational question. Eloise hated it. She wanted to exaggerate, be dramatic and generalize.

‘I can’t marry them’, she merely said, leaning against the tree.

‘Whistledown’s going to have a field day when she hears of this. Another refused proposal. That’s three now. At this rate she’ll put me on the eternal spinster shelf by next year, and I’ll forever be known as difficult’, Eloise sighed.

Sir Phillip said nothing.

‘Where did you learn to punch like that, by the way?’

‘I boxed in university’, he said with a careless tone, as if it wasn’t of any importance or significance.

But Eloise’s curiosity snuck through her frustration.

‘Were you any good?’

He looked confused. It was almost as if he did not expect anyone to ask him questions or show an interest in him.

‘Good enough, I suppose’, he answered without elaborating.

Eloise had to resist rolling with her eyes.

Back when she was young she had sometimes thrown a ball at a wall whenever her siblings did not want to play with her. This felt much the same. Sir Phillip didn’t give her a thing to continue conversation on. She kept throwing balls at him, but he never picked them up.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? My brother in law is a proficient boxer, could you take him on?’

‘I don’t know him. Probably not, since I haven’t done any boxing since I married. I was good enough that no one actively sought me out to box against me.’

‘So you were intimidating’, she teased.

Sir Phillip blinked, his face going blank.

‘I suppose you could say that.’

Realizing the topic was going nowhere, Eloise decided to go for the next question that was burning on her lips.

‘What were you doing outside?’

‘Looking at the garden?’ he asked in confusion, as if it was the most logical thing on earth.

The sheer incredulity of his voice made her laugh.

‘Of course you would. And, what is the final verdict?’

‘Amateurs’, he responded quickly.

Eloise grinned. Well, this was clearly the one topic about which he had opinions and answers at the ready.

‘Why?’

‘I can see scar tissue on trees. Bushes and trees have not been trimmed properly. The flowers aren’t well maintained. It’s just a mess really. It doesn’t look bad at first sight but the plants are being severely mistreated.’

‘Dear, we should report that. Those poor plants are being abused.’

‘Are you mocking me?’

‘Me? You? I wouldn’t dare.’

‘You’d dare anything.’

Eloise could only grin.

‘You’re very perceptive’, she decided.

Sir Phillip blinked.

‘I’m usually better with plants than people.’

Eloise rolled her eyes. It was amazing how dry and sarcastic he could be at some turns, while he was completely oblivious at others.

‘Since we can’t help the plants, perhaps we should stop your torment by taking you back inside. Clearly seeing the poor darlings being abused in such a way frustrates you.’

Sir Phillip sighed.

‘Or well, you can do as you like, but I need to get back inside, before someone starts worrying about me. And well, I am getting rather cold.’

He nodded.

Eloise looked at him, waiting for him to decide whether to come with her or not.

‘Yes?’ he asked.

‘Are you coming or not?’

‘I’ll come’, he decided.

‘My’, Eloise muttered as she heard the music. ‘That can’t be.’

‘What can’t be?’ Sir Phillip asked cluelessly.

‘That sounds like the start of a German waltz.’

‘And that is?’

‘Only the most saucy dance possible. The Prince Regent introduced it at court only this year and apparently even Lord Byron is against it.’

‘Surely, affairs and public fights with former mistresses involving broken wineglasses are worse than dances?’ Sir Phillip asked, face etched with confusion.

‘My thoughts exactly. I’ve never danced one. They don’t look hard to do, though.’ Eloise paused at the threshold of the ballroom. The dance floor consisted almost entirely of young people, the elder generation was clearly not very enthusiastic about it.

‘Oh well, I guess I’ll just watch it’, she sighed.

She could hardly believe a dance was worthy of scandal. Not that she’d seen it, but this far the music sounded lovely. Dancers flocked to the floor, assuming a starting position. She spotted Marina between them, her bright dress standing out between the many white frocks.

‘Do you want to dance it?’ Sir Phillip asked.

‘I don’t know whether I’ll like it, but I’d love to try.’

‘That’s a yes’, he pointed out.

Eloise smirked, looking up at him.

‘I guess it is. But what does it matter. Nobody claimed this dance after all.’

‘I could?’

‘You would?’

‘Did I not just say that?’ he asked.

Eloise was about to ask him whether he did not believe it to be scandalous but she realized that: 1) that question might stop him from dancing with her while she wanted to dance, 2) he already said he did not see how a dance could be scandalous and 3) his wife was already on the dancefloor with the unmarried Mr. Raccett.

Eloise put her hand on his arm.

‘Then by all accounts, Sir Phillip, lead the way.’

They slipped in between the other couples.

Finally, a day with a butchered proposal that wouldn’t end on a bad note.

They assumed the posture of the others, Sir Phillip hesitantly placing his hand on her back. Eloise put her arms in fourth position, one arm around his waist and one arm curved above her head. He put his hand in hers above their heads. His arm was stiffer and more angular, but then she assumed he did not have as much experience dancing as she.

Her arms felt strained, she had to reach too much. She took a small step towards him, and felt her arms relax. Physical proximity really was required.

‘Come to think of it, is it not a bad idea to do this if neither of us knows this dance?’ Sir Phillip asked.

A shiver ran down Eloise’s spine. She could feel his breath on her face.

‘Probably. So what?’

They did not have more time to contemplate, the song started for real.

Both of them looked over the other’s shoulder to discover what the other dancers did. Turns out it really _was_ simple. It was just taking one step forward, doing a quarter turn each time. The first step was the roughest, with both of them wanting to take a step forward and thus bumping into each other.

‘You take a step back, I take a step forth’, Eloise ordered.

And with a nod of him, they were off, joining in on the circle of waltzing people near them.

His hand was featherlight on her waist, but it still had an effect on her. No one had touched her for longer than twenty seconds except family members, she felt acutely aware of her body.

The music picked up in pace, turning more cheerful. Eloise looked over Phillip’s shoulder, seeing the others had put their hands on top of their partner’s shoulders. Now the couples took a jump forward, doing half turns with each jump.

Too slow to adapt, another couple bumped into them.

‘Sorry!’ Eloise muttered.

Once again, they first bumped into each other, before agreeing how to move. The pace was so quick Eloise felt her heart soaring to the ceiling. A laugh bubbled up from inside her. she was starting to feel dizzy with all the turns.

She remembered how back when she was a little girl she, Daphne and Francesca would sometimes spin around and around, heads turned towards the ceiling, for minutes on end. Whoever managed to keep pirouetting without stumbling the longest, won. It was never Eloise.

Confident she could not muck up such simple steps she finally looked at the face of her partner, and was surprised to find Phillip smiling as well.

‘I think whoever wants to outlaw these dances is just against fun’, she laughed as they twirled around and around. Her body felt light as air, propelled forward by momentum.

He did not respond, probably too busy with counting his footwork, but she didn’t care. The tune changed again, and now everyone held each other by the elbows, kicking their feet with every step.

Her breath was already straining in her lungs. Would they keep up this pace?

A minute later, the song slowed down. The couples placed their arms on each other’s backs, their arms crossed as they took slow steps forward. The bare flesh on Eloise’s arms tingled where it brushed against his coat sleeves. Although she now managed to catch her breath, her heartbeat did not slow down.

To her left she spotted Marina who was walking in another circle, quietly chatting and laughing with her partner. Since she was looking at her, she was on time to notice the couples turned towards each other again, holding one pair of joined hands above their heads and placing their right hands on the backs of their partners.

They were back to spinning around again. But this time they knew the moves and needn’t look at others. She met his eyes with a smile. They were so very blue, even in the candlelight. Her heart stumbled. Why did it beat so?

Cold and heat fought over her body, leaving her shivering yet hot in his arms. It was the oddest sensation. As they spun, his hand tightened around her waist. Through his glove, her dress, her stays and her chemise she could feel how hot his hand was.

And that’s when she realized just why this dance was considered dangerous. She had never felt this out of depth. All these touches, the ghost of his breath on her face, the intimate abilities to talk… these were all preserved for married couples only.

The song ended, his hands slipping from hers. Eloise felt simultaneously bereft and relieved. She pushed the feelings away.

‘Well, we managed’, she concluded with a laugh.

‘We did’, he agreed, looking just as conflicted as she felt.

It was just a dance. Just a stupid little dance. And he was just a one-off dance partner. She was sure that if this dance wasn’t as taboo, she wouldn’t think about it, or him, twice.

They left the dancefloor, standing to the side to watch the next dance start. Marina did not leave, instead another partner immediately appeared beside her.

'She looks so happy. I never -' he cut himself off.

Eloise looked at him. He shook his head, apparently arguing with himself internally.

'I could not give her this.'

Eloise felt sorry for him. And Marina. It was not really her place to comment.

'Do you try to support her as much as you're able?' she asked when he remained silent.

'I try.'

'Then you cannot be blamed. We can only try to our best ability to make others happy.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : All rejected suitors are based on the actual suitors Eloise rejected. In TSPWL there were excerpts of letters of Eloise to her siblings about her rejected proposals. I created names for the first two, but tried to match their character to the one from the letters, this one had a name though. “cannot abide a man who drinks to excess. Which is why I’m sure you will understand why I could not accept Lord Wescott’s offer… and how did you know that you and Simon were well-suited for marriage? For I vow I have not met a man about which I might say the same, and this after three long seasons on the Marriage Mart.”  
> Most excerpts of Lady Whistledown are taken straight from the Bridgerton books, but this one was of my own making as a bit of exposition, lol. 
> 
> Lady Caroline Lambe was married to the later prime minister Lord Melbourne who is most known for advising Queen Victoria during her early years. She’s the one who first coined the phrase that Lord Byron was “mad, bad and dangerous to know”, but she clearly went back on her words because she got involved with him not much later. She had a very public affair with Lord Byron whilst she was married. Her husband took her to Ireland to let the gossip cool down but she and Byron kept writing to each other. When she returned the two had many public fights, one including Caroline breaking a wine glass and trying to slash her wrists with it, luckily her mother-in-law stopped her in time. They both wrote about each other in their literary works, with Byron writing her a hate poem and Caroline writing a gothic novel in which the characters were thin disguises of herself, Lord Byron and other prominent society members. These people recognized themselves in her work and, understandably insulted, revoked her invites for all their gatherings.
> 
> The waltz was introduced to court in 1816 but it did not look like our modern day waltz. For reference I used the following waltz: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MB--uboHc9I.


	9. Chapter 9

**“This author was surprised to hear of a most juicy tale. At the Featherington wedding party Miss Eloise Bridgerton managed to break the heart of yet another lord. The man could be heard cursing all throughout the night whenever he was not occupying his mouth with a drink. It is not hard to imagine why such a brute and drunk would be refused, if one asks this author.**

**There was blood on his shirt and cravat and One cannot help but wonder whether Miss Eloise indeed takes after her brothers in every way. Her passion for boxing came as a surprise, at least to This Author. But perhaps it should not be surprising that a lady who so enjoys her independence would protect her own honour.**

**LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 30 JUNE 1816”**

‘Ewoise!’ cried Oliver.

‘It’s Eloise’, corrected Amanda with all sass and exasperation a two and a half year old could muster.

Eloise crawled from behind the tree, smiling at the children walking towards her.

‘You found me, congratulations.’

‘Our turn!’ Oliver grinned, his mouth full shining small milk teeth.

‘Alright, I shall stay here and count’, Eloise decided, turning to stand with her face to the tree.

‘One…’

The children giggled as they ran away.

Eloise had disliked the idea of children, the memory of wailing Gregory and Hyacinth had been too fresh when she was seventeen. But now she had three nieces and one nephew calling and she adored spending time with them. She supposed it would be a bit different if she had to live with them every day, listening to every moan and cry and tantrum, but for now she could just enjoy children.

She’d heard the children were little demons to their nurses but aside from some minor mischief like cheating in a game, they were nice to her. Probably because they could approach her on their own volition instead of being forced to part from their parents and into the care of their nurses.

‘Ten…’

She decided to give their small legs some more times and count till twenty.

It would make the game last longer, and she knew Penelope and Marina would appreciate that. Marina fretted for them when they were in the room and couldn’t focus on a conversation.

She could hear footsteps in the grass.

‘You might want to consider hiding because I’ll be ready with counting in nine seconds and then you’ll lose!’ Eloise warned.

‘Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. Twenty!’

She turned around and gasped when she spotted Sir Phillip looking at her with a confused expression.

‘Sir Phillip.’

‘Miss Bridgerton. What are you doing?’

‘Nothing damaging to the tree, I assure you’, she smiled, patting the bark.

‘See? Right as rain.’

‘I see.’

‘I am playing hide and seek. The children are hiding somewhere, waiting for me to find them. You never played?’

‘I… no.’

‘What a boring upbringing you must have had. Tag then?’

‘Neither.’

‘Blind man?’

‘I don’t even know what that is.’

‘Gosh, did you grow up in the army?’

How cold, how boring his youth seemed. She wondered how he could have grown up with a brother without ever playing games.

‘One could say there were some similarities’, he replied.

‘I’d say’, Eloise laughed as she started walking.

‘You’re coming along?’

‘I suppose’, he answered.

‘You have a nice orchard’, she complimented, nodding at the pear trees, apple trees and the fig trees.’

‘Thank you. I’ve installed them some three years ago now.’

‘And they’re already this big?’

‘I bought them big, obviously. Bought some small ones too, those are at the back.’

‘Aha’, she nodded, looking around and straining her ears to hear giggles and shuffles. ‘You did an impressive job. That and the greenhouse.’

She heard none. Clever children. Good hiders. She needed to ask them for tips so she could use them to hide from future suitors.

‘That wasn’t all.’

‘Oh?’

‘Some agricultural things as well.’

‘Hmm, interesting.’

He remained silent as they walked.

‘That was an invitation to tell more about it’, she then said.

‘It was?’

‘Didn’t I just say so? Is it so hard to believe I wish to understand as much as possible?’

He chewed on his cheek.

‘No, I do believe you like knowledge. But it’s just… No one ever asked. Or if I did tell, they stopped listening.’

‘Well I’m me. Not them. Everyone can decide for themselves.’

‘It’s nothing much, just some new agricultural techniques I learned at university that I introduced, and now after a transition period the fields are turning a profit for the first time since . . . well, I don’t know since when. But judging by my father’s ledgers they weren’t making a profit. They were barely staying afloat. Couldn’t compete with the rest of the county.’

‘That’s impressive.’

‘You wrote a book that managed to dominate every teatime conversation from London to Kent. I merely manage my poor grounds.’

‘I don’t believe I could have done such a thing. I merely had to create something good. You had to fix something and make it good.’

‘You are very flattering, Miss Bridgerton.’

‘I’ve been called many things, never that’, Eloise laughed.

‘My brothers will choke and die of laughter if I tell them someone called me that.’

‘Your brothers don’t think well of you?’

‘Oh, they love me. But they believe me the second biggest nuisance on earth.’

‘Who is the first?’

‘Hyacinth, the youngest.’

Eloise froze.

She’d heard something.

She turned around, leaning forward to see better.

Another rustling noise from the right.

She beckoned him and moved forward, sneaky as a cat. Or as sneaky as a cat with floor length skirts could be.

And then she saw a flash of curls.

‘Aha! Oliver! Behind that tree!’ Eloise cried out.

With a lot of muttering he appeared from behind a rather wide tree trunk.

‘Alright, and now your sister.’

Eloise marched on. They must have run in a similar direction. It was most probable. And they couldn’t have gotten that far within some twenty seconds.

She paid careful attention to all trees, and even looked up at the branches, even though she knew they were still a tad too young to start climbing trees.

‘You’re covered in green bark moss’, Phillip sighed at his son.

‘I hid.’

‘I saw.’

‘Daddy angwy?’

‘No. Washing maids may be tired, though. You always get your clothes filthy.’

Eloise smiled. Ah, how many times had her mother sighed when they had gotten their clothes dirty?

She looked around again and spotted some longer girls and a hint of blue behind another tree. There she was. She rushed forward, grabbing the trunk.

‘Aboo!’ she cried, and laughed when the girl shrieked.

‘You scared me’, Amanda protested.

Eloise was laughing so hard at the accusation in her eyes she had to clutch her belly to not bend double with laughter.

‘Am I first?’

‘No, your brother.’

‘Again?’ Amanda asked.

‘We could’, Eloise laughed.

Amanda looked beyond Eloise, freezing when she spotted her father and brother, and then she ran.

‘Daddy! You came out!’

Phillip looked very surprised as his daughter clutched his legs.

‘I did.’

Eloise rolled her eyes. He treated his children like they were made of glass.

‘Daddy you play too?’ Amanda asked.

‘Daddy counts!’ Oliver decided, seeing a clever way out of his own counting.

They were already running when he called out.

‘I came to fetch you for dinner.’

‘What?’

‘Noooo! Please daddy. Again?’

‘Dinner time. No doubt you have both made Miss Bridgerton very hungry with all your running around.’

Eloise didn’t know if she wanted to go along with Sir Phillip’s story.

‘Ewoise, we made you hungry?’ Oliver asked with a regretful voice.

‘No, I am fine. I loved playing with you. But if we do not go inside for dinner your dinner will be cold’, Eloise explained.

Oliver and Amanda pouted.

‘How about a race to the house for a final game, hm?’

‘But that’s so far!’ Amanda complained.

Eloise bit her lip, another bit of childhood nostalgia coming to her.

‘I’ll carry you.’

‘But me?’ Oliver pouted.

‘Your daddy can carry you’, Eloise decided.

Sir Crane looked just as incredulous as his son.

‘You want me to run with a child in my arms?’

‘Or on your shoulders, whatever method you usually prefer.’

‘Usually prefer?’

‘What? You’ve never given piggyback… rides.’ She realized by looking at his face he hadn’t.

Eloise swallowed away her awkwardness. That had been such a substantial part of her childhood. Her father carrying them around so they could compete with the much older boys. Her brothers taking her and Daphne on their shoulders for wrestling games in the water. It had been so normal that older siblings and parents walked around carrying the younger.

‘Oh yes!’ Amanda smiled.

‘We will win!’ Amanda said, sticking out her tongue at her brother before stretching her hands towards Eloise.

Eloise sank to her knees, patting her shoulders. Amanda understood quickly enough.

‘Is it safe?’ Phillip asked, looking at his child like it was fragile glass and he a very clumsy drunk.

‘I’ve practically grown up on someone’s shoulders. It’s fine if you hold him tight.’

She rose, Amanda shrieking with glee as she grew and grew, now towering above her own father.

‘I am bigger than you!’ she cried with a triumphant grin.

‘Taller than me’, Phillip corrected.

‘Taller!’

‘Daddy!’ Oliver cried.

‘Up! Up!’

Sir Phillip awkwardly bent his long legs so his child could crawl on top of him.

‘So how do we do this? Do we just?’

‘On the count of one, two, three!’ Eloise cried, already sprinting away on the ‘three’ as she held onto Amanda’s legs.

Was it a clever idea to race against a man with legs almost double the size of hers while she wore long skirts and he trousers? Probably not. But she didn’t care. She ran and ran until her longs felt strained and her heart beat like mad. There were no shadows or moving figures in front or beside her, while the house was already coming into view.

She chanced a look over her shoulder.

Phillip was doing an awkward speedwalk, too embarrassed to break out into a full out run, to his son’s dismay.

Eloise grinned and picked up her pace. She was a Bridgerton raised on Pall Mall. She didn’t care that a win was easy or even undeserved due to cheating, winning was winning and that was all that mattered.

She arrived at Romney Hall first, well before Sir Phillip.

She sank through her knees and let Amanda get off, both sick with laughter when they spotted how far the men still were.

‘You lost!’ cried Amanda when they finally arrived.

‘Big loss! I win!’

‘Daddy’s fault’, Oliver protested.

‘I Eloise next time’, he said.

‘No, I Eloise. Girl girl. Man man’, Amanda explained.

Eloise pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from laughing too much.

‘Look at you, both surviving’, Eloise said to Sir Phillip.

‘I believe he prefers a faster mount.’

‘Perhaps with practice?’ Eloise suggested.

‘I don’t carry them unless they fall asleep. And they are awake much more often and longer than is preferrable.’

‘Children, pure delights’, Eloise shrugged.

‘Alright, off to dinner now’, Eloise told the children.

‘It did help in getting them here faster. Usually I have to drag them and deal with at least three escape attempts.’

‘It’s called the feminine touch’, Eloise smiled, batting her eyelashes.

‘I don’t have much talent for it.’

Ah, no. He wasn’t meant to take it as an insult to his capabilities.

‘You just didn’t know that technique yet. You’ve got to be sly. Put the idea in their heads so they want to do what you want them to do. Promise them cake. Bribe them. Encourage their sense of competition, tell them how proud you’d be if they managed one thing or another. You’ll quickly see them falling over their feet to prove themselves to you.’

Sir Phillip nodded, instead of his usual blank expression she saw him processing and storing away the ideas.

‘I would not like you to be my opponent, Miss Bridgerton.’

‘A wise decision. As my siblings and all poor unfortunate suitors can testify’, she smiled.

Marina was mostly quiet but pleasant at dinner as Penelope detailed what they spoke off and talked a bit about all big events in London of the past year with special attention to amusing and scandalous detail. Once again Eloise was stunned by Penelope’s great memory. She only knew so much because she penned most things down in letters and her diary.

Marina had to smile a couple of times at funny stories of coaches driving into the water, parliamentary scandals and spouses getting humiliated for cheating and Eloise considered that an improvement.

All went well, until Oliver threw peas at Amanda and she shrieked, crying for her mother. Eloise could just see Marina withdrawing.

‘Can’t you be nice to each other! Who taught you that? Apologize!’

‘Just fun mother. Meant no hawm.’

‘You could have caused harm. Apologize.’

‘Oliver Crane, apologize!’

‘Sowwy, Amanda.’

Amanda looked positively murderous.

Eloise took a big gulp of her wine.

She could just smell revenge ideas forming in Amanda’s head.

The next day, before Marina and Penelope were out of bed, Eloise was calling out the children to stop attacking each other with their breakfast.

‘How about you make funny faces with your food? And I rate the best face’, Eloise proposed.

‘What?’

‘Like this’, Eloise explained.

She sliced a banana and put it on her oats, using two blueberries as eyes.

‘Pretty adorable, right?’ Eloise asked. The children grinned and started forming their faces, glad that they could do something mischievous with their food that got the approval of an adult.

Sir Phillip walked in at the moment the children rushed to Eloise to show the monstrous faces they had made.

‘Look daddy, a face!’

‘I see’, Sir Phillip said, frowning at their projects.

‘Shouldn’t you two be in the nursery yet?’

‘No!’ the children sung.

Sir Phillip sat down at the table.

‘If the nursemaid comes to fetch you, you will follow her’, Sir Phillip warned.

‘But breakfast?’ Amanda asked.

‘I suggest you start eating a bit faster than’, Sir Phillip suggested.

Amanda frowned, but then turned back at her plate, taking two blueberries and some dark syrup.

Eloise observed her actions.

‘Look daddy, it’s you!’ Amanda cried out, shoving her plate to her father.

Eloise laughed as Sir Phillip stared at the bowl of porridge. Brown syrup was his hair, the blueberries were his eyes, and a line of red berries his mouth.

His eyebrows lifted high onto his forehead.

‘I see, a most striking resemblance.’

‘What’s wewemblance?’ Oliver asked.

‘Resemblance is another word for likeness. I just told Amanda that it looked a lot like me.’

‘Oh’, Oliver smiled.

And if Eloise hadn’t been laughing at their interactions before, she completely lost it when Amanda scooped a big spoonful into her mouth and cried out: ‘Mm, you’re delicious, daddy!’

Phillip turned white as a sheet.

Both infants giggled.

‘Are you having fun?’ Phillip accused Eloise, deciding she was an easier target than his children.

‘Oh, exceedingly’, Eloise sniggered.

‘Why are you even up? The others aren’t.’

‘Well. I see four people downstairs while there’s only two ladies upstairs. I’m just going along with the majority’, she explained, smiling sweetly.

‘You, joining the majority for the sake of it being the majority? I’ll believe that the moment the Prince Regent stops whoring around.’

‘I take insult at that.’

‘How so? Do not you represent yourself as going against the stream?’

‘Oh I do. But I’m in my twenties. The Prince George is fifty-three. Just by the criterium of age he hasn’t got a lot of time left to do… things like that. So you’re implicating that in ten years you believe me capable of joining a majority for the sake of it being the majority.’

Sir Phillip merely blinked, his mouth gaping open as he considered a comeback. But before he could, an urgent question needed to be answered.

‘Daddy, what’s whoring?’ Amanda asked.

Eloise suppressed a laugh, pressing her hands against her mouth. She wasn’t going to help him.

Sir Phillip turned whiter still, before covering his face and raking his hands through his hair.

‘A very bad thing only very bad men do. It is so bad that if your mother were to hear that word, she would be sick. So please, don’t use that word. It is a bad word.’

‘Like George?’ Amanda asked.

‘Like devil?’ Oliver asked.

‘Yes. Yes. Those are all words that should be avoided’, Sir Phillip agreed.

‘Then why did you say it?’

‘I am but man, and men are sinners. I made a mistake.’

‘Never pegged you for a zealot’, Eloise joked.

‘Not helping’, Sir Phillip hissed.

‘Your father is right. It is a bad word and I also dislike it. That’s why _I_ refused to repeat that word. Nice people don’t use those words.’

‘Daddy not nice?’ Oliver asked.

Shoot.

‘Your father is nice, but as he said he made a mistake. And when you make a mistake you apologize and do not repeat it. For example, yesterday you threw peas at your sister. That was a mistake and not nice. You apologized. And now you should not do it again’, Eloise explained.

Oliver nodded.

‘I understand. So I am still nice?’

‘As long as you don’t throw peas at Amanda.’

Oliver frowned and looked at his plate, eating another spoonful before he lifted his loaded spoon.

‘And this?’

Eloise noted that he was a very clever boy. That was exactly how she and her siblings thought as well. When her mother forbid them to throw potatoes at each other they had started throwing carrots one night.

The look in Sir Phillip’s eyes grew desperate.

‘Do you eat that?’

‘Yes?’

‘Does your sister like being hit with food?’

Eloise turned towards Amanda who shook her head.

‘Then the same rule applies. No throwing food at your sister. It is a waste of food and it makes your sister unhappy.’

The nurse arrived and the children immediately protested they had not finished their meal.

‘I warned you’, their father said.

‘Please. No. Food first!’ Amanda cried.

‘Hurry then’, Phillip sighed.

‘Can I be with Eloise?’ Amanda asked.

‘No. You need to follow your nurse. You will learn how to behave and act like a lady and gentleman. Miss Bridgerton is very clever and will enjoy you more and more the smarter you get. If you listen to your nurse the next few years you will be able to write to Miss Bridgerton yourself and hear from her every week’, Sir Phillip said.

They were a lot of years removed from reading and writing, but Eloise saw the bait worked.

‘Ewoise comes every week?’ Oliver asked.

‘You will be able to talk to her every week’, Phillip corrected.

‘Yes. I would very much like to write to you. But you can only learn that if you do well’, Eloise smiled.

The children went away with their nurse.

‘You’re learning. Very clever’, Eloise smirked.

‘Yes, I’m quite surprised that worked’, he brought out.

‘They very much like pleasing us. It’s because they want attention.’

‘Ah. Is that the reason?’

‘Of course. If they do as is told they get rewarded with our appreciation or our time. I annoyed my siblings but I would go over corpses for my mother. We were with eight so if I did something good she would notice and praise me. It’s hard to stand out when you’re with so many.’

‘Attention’, Phillip said, swirling the liquid in his teacup, considering.

‘I see.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi-random info dump: childcare underwent a major transformation during the 18th and 19th century. In the first two to three quarters of the 18th century it was considered bad if children cried (despite that it was totally normal), were oftentimes swaddled and carried along the whole day so women could work and so the child would not be a bother running and crawling around. Children were also seen as mini-adults (they wore tiny versions of adult clothes and were treated as small adults, etc), things like childhood and especially being a teenager were practically non-existent. Even nowadays we still don’t fully accept that people between 18-25 still have a lot of mental growing and maturing to do and consider people to magically turn “adult” at 18. Children were also often sent away to wetnurses for their first three months, and were kept away from wealthy parents until they were ‘decent’ to be around. Usually the children were kept in the nursery and only interacted with their nurses. They saw their parents perhaps one time a day right before bedtime, when they were dressed properly for some conversation and perhaps games.  
> In the regency era the concept of childhood became more recognized. Children got clothes in which they were more free to play and they were accepted in the home and at the dinner table (though still controversial in the higher echelons of society) so they could “learn by example” from their parents.  
> It is clear from the books and the series the Bridgertons were very much modern parents and also very young parents. While we don’t know the age of Phillip’s father or mother it would make sense for his father to be at least a decade older than Lord Bridgerton was when he got Anthony. Lord Bridgerton was only 20 when Anthony was born, most men didn’t marry until they were in their late twenties. We also know Phillip’s father was very severe, cold, distant and fond of corporeal punishment. So I lowkey headcanon Phillip having no clue about parenting because his mother died at his birth and his father was the typical old-parenting style parent. He’s not fond of his father’s parenthood style. He’s carrying the mental and physical scars of it, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy adjustment for him. Meanwhile Marina grew up in the country so her upbringing would have been less distant than Phillip, resulting in her deciding the children would eat with them… however I still gave her some of the old preconceptions like being afraid when the children cried.  
> Regency children are also the first generation that had an actual childhood and grew up with family affection so it would make sense for them to still being uneasy with this new parenting style.  
> In case anyone wonders why Marina is so sensitive about the children hurting each other: Marina had a relationship with George that was sexual. So she knew of his scars given by his father. She knew how violent his father was. She’s in a bad mental state and has pessimistic thoughts. She’s afraid of them turning out like George’s father or losing one of her children since they’re the last pieces of George. That has nothing to do with Regency Era style parenting 😊  
> Infodump ex, xoxo your favourite sleep-deprived historian.


	10. Chapter 10

It was at a book club in London when Eloise, for the first time in forever, had no answer to a question.

‘You write romance so well, Miss Bridgerton, one cannot help but wonder if you have experience with it’, one lady had noted.

‘Yes, do you have a suitor? Don’t worry, we won’t tell.’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Oh my word, but you write it so convincingly.’

‘I had the fortune of observing my elder siblings fall in love and seeing them happy every day since.’

‘Are the men based on men you know?’

‘A bit.’

‘I really admire how you make the men change and become their better selves before rewarding them with a wife. I’m sure many of us have experience with the consequences of men’s flaws’, another said.

‘You do make high demands of the men. Has there ever been a man who met your criteria?’

Eloise was speechless.

She thought of every suitor she ever had. Every man she’d rejected. They’d all missed something. It was easy to point out their flaws. But…

‘I don’t know what criteria I’m looking for’, she answered after a while. ‘I only know what it is not.’

‘Well, Miss Bridgerton, we certainly wish you luck finding a man. If this is you without experience in love, I can only imagine how amazing a book must be written from experience’, a lady told her.

‘Yes. I do so wish you happiness. A woman shouldn’t have to choose between what she loves and who she loves.’

‘My thoughts exactly’, Eloise smiled, but she left her seat a bit wobbly.

She had just turned twenty-two two weeks ago. She was nearing shelving age. It was time to figure out what she wanted, her youth, beauty and surname would only serve her that much. In a way, she was lucky Lady Whistledown had declared her the most hard-to-catch bachelorette. It made men look at her who would not usually look at a lady who’d been out for that long.

Ah, Lady Whistledown. It was starting to become more suspicious every day now. Lady Whistledown was currently fully invested in the whereabouts of Benedict Bridgerton and the soap opera that was the housemaid shortage. She had yet to report on Daphne’s fourth pregnancy. Eloise was keeping a detailed list of who knew. Daphne had informed them a week ago. With Benedict gone, Anthony and Kate at Aubrey Hall where they recovered from the birth of their second child, Colin off in some exotic country and Gregory at school, only their mother, Francesca, Hyacinth and Eloise knew. Her mother wouldn’t spread the news, she always allowed the couple to make the announcement. Francesca wouldn’t spread the news. She had never been one to gossip but now she was also staying over at Daphne’s at their country home, having left just yesterday. Hyacinth was prone to talking, and since she’d healed her spat with the youngest Featherington yesterday, now two Featheringtons knew, since Eloise had told Penelope.

She was curious to see how fast Penelope spread the news. If it appeared in Whistledown tomorrow, Whistledown had to be one of Penelope’s acquaintances. If sooner, it had to come from the Featherington household. She hadn’t yet had the chance to read Whistledown today as she had so much running around to do.

The butler opened the door to number five, Bruton street.

‘Thank you’, she said, kicking off her outside shoes and coat.

‘Any news?’

‘Actually yes, my lady. Mr. Bridgerton has just arrived.’

‘Benedict’s home?’ Eloise asked in surprise. Why, it was high time.

‘Yes, he is in the living room.’

‘Oh my god!’

She threw her gloves at the general direction of the cloakroom and ran into the sitting room.

‘Benedict!’ she called out, throwing her arms around him. ‘Where have you been? Mother has been grumbling all week, wondering where you’d gone off to.’

Now that she got a better look of him he looked kind of pale and frail.  
  
‘Funny, when I spoke to Mother, not two minutes ago, her grumbles were about you, wondering when you were finally planning to marry.’

Eloise sighed. This was her life now. She had gotten four years to take her time, and now everyone was starting to poke their nose in her business. She knew she couldn’t be surprised.

‘When I meet someone worth marrying, that’s when. I do wish someone new would move to town. I feel as though I meet the same hundred or so people over and over again.’

‘You do meet the same hundred or so people over and over again’, her brother pointed out with a smile.

‘Exactly my point,’ she said. ‘There are no secrets left in London. I already know everything about everyone.’

‘Really?’ Benedict asked, with no small measure of sarcasm.

Alright, there was one secret she did not know: the identity of Lady Whistledown.

‘Mock me all you want,’ she said, jabbing her finger toward him, ‘but I am not exaggerating.’

‘Not even a little bit?’ he grinned.

She scowled at him. ‘Where were you this past week?’

He plopped down on a sofa. His posture bad as always. 

‘Went to the Cavender party,’ he explained, propping his feet up on a low table. ‘It was abominable.’

‘Mother will kill you if she catches you with your feet up,’ Eloise said as she sat down as well.

She spotted a letter and the Whistledown paper on the table right beneath his feet. But at present her brother who had reappeared after a two week absence was more interesting. He had missed her and Francesca’s birthday, for heaven’s sake. His excuse had to be good. 

‘And why was the party so dreadful?’

‘The company. A more boring bunch of lazy louts, I’ve never met’, he said.

Eloise had to smile. This was why she missed him, he was the only person around the house she could have a blunt conversation with.

‘As long as you don’t mince words.’

‘You are hereby forbidden from marrying anyone who was in attendance.’

‘An order I shall probably have no difficulty obeying’, she smiled. She was quite a pro at rejecting men by now.

‘But,’ she said, looking up with narrowed eyes, ‘that doesn’t explain where you were all week.’

‘Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly nosy?’

‘Oh, all the time. Where were you?’

‘And persistent, too.’

‘It’s the only way to be. Where were you?’

‘Have I mentioned I’m considering investing in a company that manufactures human-sized muzzles?’

She was almost hurt. He’d always had a tendency to be secretive, wanting an own private life that was wholly his, but rarely had he shut Eloise out entirely. He knew how vicariously she lived through him.

She threw a pillow at him. ‘Where were you?’

‘As it happens,’ he said, gently tossing the pillow back in her direction, ‘the answer isn’t the least bit interesting. I was at My Cottage, recuperating from a nasty cold.’

‘I thought you’d already recuperated.’

He regarded her with an expression that was an unlikely cross between amazement and distaste. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I know everything. You should know that by now.’ She grinned. ‘Colds can be so nasty. Did you have a setback?’

He nodded. ‘After driving in the rain.’

Men, such babies. But then she only knew a very limited amount of men who actually had brains and used them too. Just the one, actually.

‘Well, that wasn’t very smart of you.’

‘Is there any reason, why I am allowing myself to be insulted by my ninnyhammer of a younger sister?’

‘Probably because I do it so well.’ She kicked at his foot, trying to knock it off the table. ‘Mother will be here at any second, I’m sure.’

‘No, she won’t,’ he returned. ‘She’s busy.’

‘Doing what?’

He waved his hand toward the ceiling. ‘Orienting the new maid.’

He said it with such calculated carelessness she knew the statement was less innocent than he pretended. How did they suddenly get a new maid? There was a shortage in London and her mother had been looking for over a week to find a new one. If even the Bridgerton reputation could not lure one, how did someone just fall into their hands now? Coinciding with Benedict’s arrival? It was most suspicious.

She sat up straight. ‘We have a new maid? Nobody told me about it.’

‘Heavens,’ he drawled, ‘something has happened and Eloise doesn’t know about it. I thought you knew about everything that happened in London.’

She ignored the stab.

She leaned back in her chair, then kicked his foot again. ‘Housemaid? Lady’s maid? Scullery?’

‘Why do you care?’

‘It’s always good to know what’s what.’

‘Lady’s maid, I believe.’

‘And how do you know?’

‘Because I brought her here.’

Ah, that explained. And that also raised over fifteen additional questions. He’d been sick at My Cottage for a week, or so he’d claimed. Had the maid accompanied him from his cottage to home? How could he otherwise have met her if he’d been ill.

‘The maid?’

‘No, Mother. Of course the maid.’

And why would he bring a maid home? Did he know one of theirs had abandoned them? And even if he knew, Benedict had never cared for servants before.

‘Since when do you trouble yourself with the hiring of servants?’

‘Since this particular young lady nearly saved my life by nursing me while I was ill.’

Young lady? Young? She thought he only employed an old married couple. The plot thickened. She observed him. There was something almost defensive about his face, and dreamy at the same time. She’d never seen that look on his face before. Well, once before, but that had been almost two years ago.

‘You were that ill?’

‘I have felt better,” he said mildly.

Alright, that was enough. She needed to check for herself.

‘Where are you going?’

She’d already risen to her feet. ‘To go find Mother and meet the new maid. She’s probably going to wait on Francesca and me, now that Marie is gone.’

‘You lost your maid?’

So he had not known. That only made it all the more strange he had brought her to London with him.

‘She left us for that odious Lady Penwood’, she explained before hopping out of the room.

In the hallway she strained her ears, detecting the voice of her mother upstairs.

She sneaked up the stairs, spotting a girl with relatively short bronze hair and a drab dress. She looked quite skinny. Intrigued, she stepped closer.

  
  
‘Well, it’s—oh, good day, Eloise. What brings you up here?’ her mother asked, surprised that Eloise had already returned from her reading session.  
  
The girl turned, as well, and Eloise saw she was very pretty, with full lips and kind if scared eyes.

‘Benedict told me we have a new maid,’ Eloise said.  
  
Lady Bridgerton motioned to Sophie. ‘This is Sophie Beckett. We were just chatting. I think we shall deal famously.’  
  
Famously? Her mother was kind to servants but she was never close to them. Never had she sampled a servant to check if they were nice to chat to. Something was going on. Why did Benedict suddenly show up with a beautiful servant without knowing they were in need of one and did her mother talk about her as if she was taking in a child instead of hiring a servant? Had Benedict told her mother something? Were they hiding something from her?

‘My brother tells me you saved his life,’ Eloise said, turning from her mother to Sophie.  
  
‘He exaggerates,’ the girl said, hesitantly smiling.

There was something about her, something familiar. Yet she could not say if she had ever seen the girl before. Technically, she couldn’t have, as Benedict had found the girl outside of London. So the girl could not have worked for one of the families Eloise had ever visited before. The only other locations she visited a lot were Aubrey Hall and Romney Hall. And she would definitely remember a servant she saw there. But if the girl came from around My Cottage in Gloucestershire, then how did she come to have something of an upper class London accent?

And then she talked about Benedict in such a familiar joking way servants would usually not dare. It was most suspicious. The girl’s smile wavered, then grew. She knew Eloise was looking for clues and had succeeded in putting on a poker face, Eloise admired that. So Benedict had brought a clever pretty girl home.

Eloise smiled. She would find out whatever secret those two were hiding in due time. For the present, she would just roll with it.

‘I think my mother is correct. We shall deal famously.’

The girl’s smile grew genuine.

‘Have you met Francesca and Hyacinth?’ Eloise asked. If she answered positively, she would admit to having lived in London before. Eloise wondered if Hyacinth or Francesca would be able to recognise the girl.  
  
Sophie shook her head, just as Lady Bridgerton said, ‘They are not at home. Francesca is visiting Daphne, and Hyacinth is off at the Featheringtons. She and Felicity seem to be over their row and are once again inseparable.’  
  
Eloise chuckled. ‘Poor Penelope. I think she was enjoying the relative peace and quiet with Hyacinth gone. I know I was enjoying the respite from Felicity.’

Lady Bridgerton turned to Sophie. ‘My daughter Hyacinth can more often than not be found at the home of her best friend, Felicity Featherington. And when she is not, then Felicity can be found here.’  
  
The girl looked as confused as Eloise that her mother shared so much family history.

And then , out of the blue, a tear rolled down the girl’s cheek. Eloise frowned. Alright, something was definitely going on.

‘Is something wrong, Sophie? You have a tear in your eye’, her mother asked.  
  
‘Just a speck of dust.’

Her mother shot Eloise a concerned glance, but both accepted that the girl would not release any further information.

Eloise went downstairs again. Time to check that mail.

‘Oh. My. God!’ Eloise cried.

But no matter how long she stared at the words, the ink remained the same.

‘What the devil! I’m going to kill her!’ Eloise cried.

‘Language’, her mother said from another couch. ‘What is the matter?’

Eloise plastered a smile on her face.

‘I just realized something. I’m uhm… I need to pick up Hyacinth. At the Featheringtons. It’s almost time for supper anyway’, she said, jumping up.

‘Eloise?’ her mother asked, standing up.

‘It’s fine. It’s fine!’ Eloise assured her.

It all made sense.

She threw on her coat, not even caring to button it before running outside.

Whistledown had written about Daphne’s pregnancy. That was less than twelve hours between Eloise telling Penelope and the publishing of the column. And the Featheringtons hadn’t seen anyone else after they had seen the Bridgertons out yesterday. It had to be one of them. And it wasn’t going to be little Felicity, who had been ten years old when the first column launched.

Only when the wind blew in her hair when she turned a corner, she realized she’d forgotten to put on a bonnet as well. Damn it. She was already known as quirky. And after all, what was the worst that could happen, Lady Whistledown would write about it? Ha!

It all added up.

It explained why Whistledown reported so much about the Bridgertons.

It explained why she always published Bridgerton baby news so fast.

And it especially explained why Penelope had been so guilty after the Marina scandal had been published. It also explained why Whistledown had changed her tone to a much more innocent and kinder one during the second year of the column.

It had been Penelope who had written the column. It was Penelope who had ruined her entire family and Marina to prevent Colin from being trapped in a marriage to a woman who lied. It explained why Penelope was so desperate for Marina to be happy, because she had been the one who had ruined her life in the first place.

Eloise felt stupid for taking so long to realize it. Lady Whistledown covered events Penelope did not attend, but always described them in much less detail than the ones she had attended.

She knocked on the door to the Featherington house.

She was certain she looked feral, her bun was coming loose and her coat hung off her shoulder, but she didn’t care. She shrugged it off and stomped it into the poor butler’s hands.

‘I’m here for Penelope Featherington. I’ll see myself in.’

After so many years, the butler didn’t bother asking if Eloise could be received. She had an always welcome card.

‘They’re in the music room’, he answered, perplexed.

‘Good. Thank you.’

With two steps of stairs at a time she marched up, but managed to find enough composure to knock.

The piano stopped.

‘Enter.’

Eloise opened the door, eyes immediately finding Penelope. And when Penelope saw her, Eloise knew that she knew that Eloise knew.

‘I’m sorry to barge in unannounced, Lady Featherington. But could I borrow Penelope for a minute?’

‘Sure’, Lady Featherington stammered, looking very confused and intrigued. An expression that was duplicated on the face of her two other present daughters and Hyacinth.

‘After we’re done talking, we need to go home for supper’, Eloise smiled at Hyacinth.

Her sister nodded, speechless.

Penelope remained silent as they walked to Penelope’s bedroom. The ginger girl carefully locked the door.

‘Do I need to explain why I’m here?’ Eloise asked.

Penelope turned around, staring at Eloise’s crossed arms. Lady Whistledown’s society papers were still crumpled in her right hand.

‘No, I think I know.’

‘I’m insulted. I’m humiliated. I’m hurt.’

‘Eloise I’m so sorry I can explain – ‘

‘Why didn’t you trust me!’

That perplexed Penelope.

‘What?’

‘We’ve been friends for over a decade yet you could not trust me with this?’

‘I – ‘

‘I always told you everything’, Eloise said, tears jumping into her eyes. Alright, she hadn’t told her everything. She had kept one thing secret, but that was a small one, compared to being the biggest gossip London had ever known. She couldn’t believe the writer she had looked up to, had tried to protect, had tried to protect and aspire to, had been her best friend all along.

She shuddered at the memory of telling all her Whistledown theories to Penelope, about her being a widow or a servant. Her friend must have had a mighty good laugh.

‘I always told you everything too. Everything… except that.’

‘That and Marina who you pretended was just a servant girl and your crush on Colin.’

‘My what?’ Penelope asked, face frozen with shock.

‘I’m not blind, you know. I was just polite. It seemed rude to point it out given how obviously gutted you were that he walked after Marina and then always ran away from home. I allowed you to come to me with it in your own time.’

‘I… I’m sorry. I just… I trust you and love you. But I was afraid you’d talk. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You always told your family everything.’

‘I know I did. But I’m getting better. With age I’ve come to see that some things are better kept hidden.’

Penelope swallowed, walking towards the window.

‘I’ve been doubting about telling you for a while now. But I felt I couldn’t anymore. Not after how I wrote about your sister that first season, and after how much you wanted to find out who Lady Whistledown was. I feared that if I told you… You’d be so angry you’d never talk to me again.’

‘How could I? Pen, you’re my only friend. There’s not a soul in the whole of London I could consider replacing you with. I… I wish you hadn’t made some mistakes but honestly by now’, Eloise sighed.

‘I would have been angry, I think, if I found out after that first season. I was such a hothead. And still so frustrated I had not managed to find it out. And you really made a comical opera of my family. But Whistledown changed, it became milder. Only arseholes were talked about it a cruel manner. You didn’t ruin innocent people anymore. You grew up. I just feel hurt that you shut me out.’

‘I understand’, Penelope said with a heavy voice.

‘To be honest… You should have known this was coming. Your disproportional attention to my family and the very speedy reporting relating to Bridgerton marriages and babies was what did you in.’

Penelope let out a sad laugh.

‘It was ready for the printing when I heard. I was doubting about whether I should put it in. But then you said she was over three months along and that your family had known for over a week so I thought…’

‘That others would have known already.’

Penelope shrugged.

‘What will you do now?’

‘Do?’ Eloise asked.

‘Are you going to tell them?’

‘My family?’

Penelope nodded.

‘No, I don’t think they’d understand. You’re my friend. I don’t… I don’t want them to dislike you. And right now… I don’t know if it would be wise.’

‘That’s how I feel about it’, Penelope admitted.

The two girls sat down on her bed.

‘You want me to stop?’

‘No. Are you mad? Pen, I’m proud of you. I wanted to be you. You made your work out of mocking London society. That’s a dream. Your pen holds so much power and you can wield it anonymously. You could uncover all bad guys and prevent them from hurting young girls. And you have done so, with Berbrooke and all. You’ve warned many a girl away from dangerous men.’

‘But your family…’

‘Just… Stop calling Benedict number two and Colin Mr. Uncatchable… And perhaps don’t say A, B and C can’t be told apart except for their height and eyes. That really bugs them. They feel like they have no personal identity.’

‘Really? But they’re so different’, Penelope stammered.

‘We know because we know them. But Benedict has frequently been called number two, even by some friends. He really struggled with it. But he doesn’t talk about it often. Since Anthony and Colin wouldn’t understand what’s so wrong with them that Benedict doesn’t want to be seen as being similar. He also mistrusts women, thinks they just want him because he’s a Bridgerton man, not because he’s Benedict.’

‘Oh. Alright. But you – ‘

‘Oh, we’re good’, Eloise interrupted. ‘Actually I’m kind of proud of my reputation. Eloise the Uncatchable. The only woman who actively gets pursued because of her untameable status. Only men usually have that happening, young girls thinking they can catch and tame a rogue. At the same time it keeps the creeps and prejudiced men who I wouldn’t agree with anyway at bay.’

‘Oh uhm, you’re welcome?’

‘I also have a new mystery for you.’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s got to do with a housemaid.’

‘But I already reported on that.’

‘No. A new one. Mine. But perhaps keep it out of the papers for a while.’

‘Happy to help.’

‘I love you, my secret sneaky mean little reporter. Come over for tea tomorrow so you can meet her. There’s just something about her.’

  
**“This Author is quite certain that the male half of the population will be uninterested in the following portion of the column, so you are all given leave to skip to the next section. However, for the ladies, let This Author be the first to inform you that the Bridgerton family was recently sucked into the battle of the maids that has been raging all season between Lady Penwood and Mrs. Featherington. It seems that the maid attending to the daughters Bridgerton has defected to the Penwoods, replacing the maid who fled back to the Featherington household after Lady Penwood forced her to polish three hundred pairs of shoes. Luckily for the Bridgertons, they found a replacement no two days later. Wherever they found one during a housemaid shortage is a good question This Author cannot answer yet.  
  
And in other Bridgerton news, Benedict Bridgerton is most definitely back in London. It seems he took ill while in the country and extended his stay. This Author apologizes to everyone who was looking for a better story, but this author can only report the truth.”  
  
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 14 MAY 1817**

‘I recognize her’, Penelope admitted.

‘Right? But wherefrom?’

‘I don’t know. I truly don’t know. I never forget a face but I really cannot place her.’

‘Benedict says he found her in Gloucestershire but then why does she seem so familiar? The only people we know there are…’

‘The Cranes. I know. And she’s not from there, I’m certain. Besides, Marina would have written to me if they lost a maid, she has no issue reporting the runaway nurses.’

‘A nurse ran away?’

‘Two. Apparently they’re quite demanding. Terrors, is the word Marina uses.’

‘Ph-‘ Eloise cut herself off before she could say Phillip said the same.

‘Perhaps,’ Eloise said, justifying her previous p, ‘if they gave them some more attention… And I know that’s rude to say… they would be less trouble. Marina sees them but she demands they be quiet and nice all the time and doesn’t allow them to lose their energy and Sir Crane barely dares to do a thing with them. It’s slightly better now but…’

‘Actually, it’s worse’, Penelope said.

‘Marina sees the children less now. The nurses come complain about them almost daily and she’s tired of chastising them. She feels like she’s failing at being a mother, and is disappointing George every time her children do something naughty.’

Eloise was silent for a minute, feeling like she couldn’t talk about anything else as it would cruel to brush off the topic. But she didn’t know what to do either. She’d never fully understood Marina. Or rather, she’d understood her but could not see a solution or a way out. It just seemed so endlessly… depressing really. That whole household was miserable and she couldn’t imagine what could be done about it.

‘But to come back to your point,’ Penelope said after the silence had been long enough, ‘no. I know she’s not from there. And she isn’t from your home. Nor Mine. And she was not at my sister’s wedding last year so she has to be from London.’

‘But then how did she end up in Gloucestershire?’

‘That’s a very good question. Let’s go over what we have, shall we? She knows French. She’s educated. She talks really well. Her manners are impeccable. But she does not act like a servant. She converses way too easily with us at tea for that’, Penelope reasoned.

‘Right? I did not buy her excuse that she was educated alongside the children. That might excuse reading and writing but not horse riding lessons. Benedict said she could ride. And Hyacinth heard her speak Latin.’

‘Indeed.’

‘But she can mend clothes and help with my dress like a real servant though.’

‘Something is not adding up’, Penelope decided.

‘And she and Benedict act odd around each other.’

‘Odd in a tense tense way.’

‘It’s like there’s history there. Sophie is so out of it. She’s very distracted, always looking out of the window. Pricking herself as she’s mending socks whenever his name is mentioned.’

‘Will you try talking to Benedict?’

‘He hasn’t been around the house in almost two weeks’, Eloise sighed. ‘I miss him. He’s never been away for so long. I made him swear to not abandon me when he went to live alone and he has kept that promise until he fell ill in the countryside in April. I’m robbed and I feel shut out.’

‘Perhaps he’s ill.’

‘A third time in two months?’ Eloise questioned. ‘I doubt it.’

‘I want my brother back. He never shut me out like this before.’

‘Everything will be alright, in the end’, Penelope comforted her.

‘No it won’t. I lost Daphne too. And I have never gotten her back in the same way. Much as I was annoyed by her bloody perfect behaviour and the high bars she set I could never reach, I loved her. And I needed her.’

Penelope was quiet.

‘You’ll always be there, right?’

‘Of course’, Penelope promised. ‘I swear.’

‘Old maids forever, if no one marries us.’

‘Yes, of course. The terror of London town.’

‘Looking down and laughing at all new debutantes at age fifty, glad we never got burdened by odious husbands.’

‘Indeed’, Penelope smiled. But neither looked very happy.

Benedict did make a reappearance on the fifteenth of June, but remained evasive. Eloise jumped him as soon as she could.

‘Benedict! Where have you been? You were going to help Hyacinth with her arithmetic. She hasn’t seen hide nor hair of you in two weeks.’

‘It’s not as if she has a school to flunk out of,’ Benedict muttered.

‘Benedict, that is a terrible thing to say!’ Eloise exclaimed.

Since when did he make a mockery of a woman’s education? Especially to Eloise, who was already so angry that women could not attend school. He knew his sisters saw the possibility to “flunk out of school” as a privilege, at least Hyacinth and Eloise did. The others did not care so much.

‘I know,’ he groaned.

‘Just because we of the female gender are not allowed to study at places like Eton and Cambridge doesn’t mean our educations are any less precious,’ Eloise ranted. He should have known.

‘Furthermore—' she carried on.

Benedict sagged against the wall.

‘—I am of the opinion that the reason we are not allowed access is that if we were, we would trounce you men in all subjects!’

He should praise himself lucky she was not angry. She was keeping herself from boasting how she bested all of them at shooting and Daphne bested them at riding.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he sighed.

‘Don’t patronize me.’

‘Believe me, Eloise, the last thing I would dream of doing is patronizing you.’

She eyed him suspiciously before crossing her arms. Something was very much up with her brother. He was never like this.

‘Well, don’t disappoint Hyacinth.’

‘I won’t’, he promised then.

‘I believe she’s in the nursery’, she said, carefully omitting that Sophie was also in the nursery.

Benedict gave her a distracted nod, turning toward the stairs. Eloise was curious to see what it would give. She winked at her mother, who poked her head of the nearby music room.

‘I can’t make head or tails from them’, Eloise sighed.

‘Give it time. It’ll sort itself out.’

‘It can’t go on like this. Benedict disappearing for weeks on end, being cross with me, neglecting Hyacinth… Even now I doubt he’ll give her any attention.’

‘Well, right now it’s understandable, given that there’s someone up there I think he’s been trying to avoid’, her mother reasoned.

Eloise sighed, hoping her sister, Sophie and Benedict would soon come downstairs, all smiling. Unfortunately, it never happened. First Hyacinth joined them. Then, ten minutes later, Benedict stormed past them without even saying goodbye, and Sophie? Why, Eloise didn’t see her at all, and eventually went down for supper without ever seeing a trace of her.

  
  


Just a few hours later, Penelope Bridgerton knocked on the Bridgerton’s door late at night.

‘Pen?’ Eloise asked in confusion.

‘I know I should be home, finishing up for the day. And you probably didn’t expect me back here after the scene this afternoon with your brothers, you don’t have to pretend you haven’t heard. But I know tomorrow something is meant to be published in a certain column. So I want to talk to you first. It’s about Lady Penwood and a servant that was apprehended before your door. Was it one of yours?’

‘What?’

‘A servant was caught in front of your door late this afternoon’, Penelope explained impatiently. ‘Lady Penwood said she, meaning the servant was female, had stolen from her. The girl, because it was a young servant, was thrown in jail. Was the servant one of yours, or just happened to be arrested in front of your house?’

Eloise, who had been in the process of getting ready for bed and had been told by her mother Sophie had left, gasped.

‘Oh God. Yes! Sophie! How does Lady Penwood know Sophie? And how can she accuse her of stealing?’

‘Well, we knew she had to be from London’, Penelope said. ‘If she lived and worked for Penwood, that would explain things. And Penwood has been racing through maids for two years now. So I’m guessing Sophie escaped the wretched woman two years ago.’

‘And Benedict brought her back and let her live in the house right next to that odious woman’, Eloise filled in. ‘I approve of her robbing such a horrible woman notorious for underpaying her staff.’

‘But what now?’

‘We must tell Benedict’, Eloise decided.

She took a step outside.

‘Eloise, Benedict does not live far but…’

Eloise was in her nightgown.

‘Right, crap’, Eloise cursed, forgoing pleasantries in front of her friend as usual.

‘I’ll change.’

‘Will your mother even let you go out at this time of night?’

‘She can try to stop me’, Eloise decided.

And perhaps, Eloise reasoned, this was her way to win back Benedict’s trust.

‘You did well, my friend’, Eloise said, throwing her arms around Penelope. ‘Now go home and report it. An arrest right in front of our house would look suspicious if not reported. But be vague, if you please, so they can’t redirect it to Sophie.’

‘You have my word’, Penelope promised.

Eloise rushed back upstairs, forgoing her stays and just rushing into an overdress and a coat, buttoning it to the top so no one could see she was not properly dressed underneath. She braided her hair, pinned it, put on her boots, and ran outside without informing her mother. It was safer that way.

The servant at Benedict’s house was surprised, and demanded he ask Benedict whether he would receive his sister first. However, he made the fatal mistake of leaving Eloise at the door unattended, so she ran after him, sprinting up the stairs faster than he could catch her.

Benedict sat in his drawing studio, a bottle beside him, opened and half-finished without a glass in sight.

‘God darn it, Eloise!’ he cried, jumping up in shock when she flung open the doors.

‘Master, I beg you pardon. I was going to ask you first’, the servant panted.

‘Benedict, I need to speak to you.’

‘Right now?’ he asked, face torn between worry and annoyance.

‘Right now.’

‘How did mother even allow you out?’ he asked with an incredulous laugh.

‘I’m very convincing. Benedict, please.’

He instantly turned serious.

‘Alright.’

‘Care for a smoke?’

‘Uhm…’

‘You’ll need a smoke. Come outside with me’, Eloise ordered, inviting herself into his garden.

She sat down on a stone bench. His garden looked very basic and small. Just a patch of grass surrounded by some blandly cut hedges. Sir Phillip would be bored out of his mind here. She pushed the thought away.

Wait, she’d been reading his letter before Penelope had arrived at her house. She cursed. If anyone came into her room they would find the letter. Darn it. She should have never left it in plain sight. Problems for later, she decided. She couldn’t race back now.

Benedict plopped down next to her, offer her a cigar before he took a swig from the bottle.

‘Thanks.’

He put the bottle down and brought his cigar to his mouth. He was in a bad mood. She was glad he’d decided to be hospitable to her. But then she could always count on Benedict to welcome her, unlike distant Anthony and unreliable Colin.

‘Together in a garden by night again’, he said.

‘Yes, it’s been a while we had a night-time heart to heart, hasn’t it?’ Eloise smiled.

‘I’m afraid that’s my doing’, he admitted.

‘You were busy.’

‘You are my sister. I should make time for you. In the end, family’s all one can trust and rely upon.’

That sounded bitter. Eloise looked up at him in worry. Questions later, she had to tell him first.

But if she was right. If there was a thing between Benedict and Sophie, she might be telling him the one he loved would be hanged. And if it could be prevented, he might marry her. Which meant she lost the sibling she was closest to.

But it was not right to be silent.

‘I think Anthony, Daphne and mother might have another opinion on that’, she carefully said, breathing out a cloud of smoke.

Benedict huffed.

‘Lucky them. I can only be happy for them that they have found someone to trust. But for men like me and Colin, we only get lied to. And you only ever get bothered by the opposite sex’, Benedict smiled.

So something had happened. Eloise wondered whether her intervention was then a good thing. But then she remembered telling Kate about Anthony and how soon they had fixed their struggle afterward. No, she must speak. Even if there was nothing between them, Sophie seemed too nice a girl to rot in jail. She needed Benedict to do something about it.

‘Someone lied to you?’

‘It’s, complicated’, he shrugged, taking another swallow from the bottle. ‘Don’t worry. I’m a big boy I can take it.’

‘There was a time when we shared our struggles.’

‘I will, perhaps. When the injury is less fresh.’

‘Benedict…’

‘Ah yes sorry. You wanted to speak to me. What is it you wanted to say? Is everything alright? Tell me it isn’t another suitor bothering you.’

‘Ben – ‘

‘ – if someone compromised your honour, please don’t tell Anthony. We can solve it between the two of us in a subtle manner. Anthony will with one hundred percent certainty get caught screaming and racing across the country challenging the man into a duel. We can kill him with more stealth without anyone risking execution.’

‘Benedict. It’s. Not. Me.’

‘What?’

‘It’s Sophie?’

‘What about Sophie?’ he asked, shoulders straightening. He looked at her with mistrust now.

‘How do you know about her?’

‘Well, I didn’t, but this pretty much confirms it’, Eloise smirked. ‘And I would laugh about how much you give yourself away with such a reaction if what I was about to say wasn’t so serious.’

‘What?’

‘Sophie was arrested this afternoon in front of our house. Lady Penwood accused her of theft.’

‘What! And you only tell me this now?’ he asked, jumping upright.

‘I tried telling you sooner!’ Eloise cried, jumping upright as well.

‘And I could have helped you sooner if you let me in! But you locked me out!’

Benedict grew quite, face awash with guilt.

‘But what – how – where?’

‘That’s all I know. I don’t know why Penwood accused her but I’m guessing she worked for her in the past?’

Benedict nodded.

‘You knew?’

‘Not before today’, he admitted.

‘It’s… Why I was so angry. She hid it. Lied about her identity.’

‘Why?’

Benedict shook his head.

‘I felt like a fool when I found out. She knew I was me all the time. But she hid her identity the entire time.’

‘What identity?’

‘That she was Penwood’s bastard.’

‘Oh God’, Eloise muttered.

‘And that she was the Lady in Silver.’

‘Oh’, Eloise bit her hand to keep from cursing again.

‘I thought she was mocking me, hiding it while she knew I knew her. Foolish Benedict, unable to recognize a girl who only wore half a mask.’

So that was why she’d been so familiar! Penelope and Eloise had met her at the ball two years ago.

‘Lady Penwood accused her of theft so severe the punishment is death.’

‘What!’ Benedict cried, now looking positively mad and desperate.

‘She can’t. She… We must stop it!’

‘But how? I came to you to… ask you I guess since I have no clue how to solve it. And it’s near midnight. We can’t go now, can we?’

‘We can’t let her spend the night in jail!’ Benedict cried.

‘No, of course we can’t. But what do you suggest we do hm? Break her out? Weren’t you the one who was critiquing Anthony for illegal activities such as duelling?’

Benedict tore at his hair before kicking a nearby bush.

‘Argh! But we must do something! She can’t win. The hag can’t win.’

‘On that we agree.’

Benedict sighed, picking up the bottle before putting it down without drinking.

‘What do we do?’ he asked, looking at her with great big desperate eyes. Trusting her and asking her for guidance. And in that moment, he was the brother she spent entire nights with underneath the starry sky, complaining about how unfair society was. And how fitting it was that even in love, society was making it difficult for him with tricky legal systems and social status rules. She was losing her brother and buddy, but she could not bear to see him unhappy. And how frightening love looked then, driving people to madness and desperation, out of their minds with worry and passion.

Eloise thought long and hard.

‘Come’, she decided.

‘Where to?’

‘Mother.’

**Yesterday was a very busy day in Bruton street to say the least! First there was the commotion around the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton’s House. Then there was the excitement culminating in a public row right on the front steps between the countess Penwood and her daughter, Miss Posy Reiling. After which the girl was seen entering the Bridgerton household without leaving. To that This Author can only say: Huzzah to Posy!**

**And then, it was announced Benedict Bridgerton was engaged. No, not to Miss Posy Reiling, although This Author cannot blame readers for connecting the two events. The lucky girl is Miss Sophia Beckett, a distant cousin and ward of the old Lord Penwood. It is yet a mystery as to how the two met and fell in love, but This Author can only suspect it was awfully romantic, as all Bridgerton romances are. No doubt the girl is unbelievably happy.**

**LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 17 JUNE 1817”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certain dialogue lines and lines out of Lady Whistledown columns were taken directly out of "An Offer From a Gentleman" as the interactions between the characters were necessary to construct the narrative of this chapter.
> 
> No Sir Phillip in this one. Also, isn't it interesting that in Julia Quinn's Bridgerton books Amanda and Oliver are born in 1816, not 1813 when Bridgerton takes place? Heheh. I wonder what that year difference would do to the series... Or this fic. Stay tuned.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There a spoiler in the TW but here it goes...
> 
> TW: short mention of attempted suicide

Eloise had never dealt well with being told some things weren’t for her. It has resulted in her brothers tying her to a tree when they went to pubs, Eloise crying when she could not go to school or university, Daphne scolding her for not understanding what she was going through as a debutante, and then remaining very silent about what married life was like.

It was unfair that society decided some people would get something, and others wouldn’t. This was an injustice, but worse was the walls society enforced between siblings and friends because of it. Daphne was her sister, bound to her in blood, yet she could not speak of marriage to her sister. Benedict was her brother and best friend, yet he could not tell her about university and certain things he studied.

With such rules in place, how could Eloise feel anything but locked out? The siblings she was closest to had fled the nest and now lived lives she could neither relate to or talk about with them. And the sole remaining person who was close to her in age, sweet Francesca, was about to abandon her as well.

And it was cruel, incredibly so. Eloise could not force herself to marry just to acquire the liberties of a married woman and the ability to talk with her sisters about everything again. Nor could she force her siblings to remain single and forced into the cruel role of half child-half adult that was reserved for adults who did marry when they were in love.

In November, Francesca had grown close to earl John Stirling. Since then, John and his cousin Michael spent entire afternoons at the Bridgerton household. And although Eloise liked them, she knew the reason for their presence and could not see them come in with some minor heartache.

But what could she say? Francesca deserved happiness. And who could she say it to? Penelope had never felt threatened by her sisters marrying, she did not share the same affection with them as Eloise did, and would not mind the silence between them about certain topics. Her siblings? She could not, it would appear selfish, and they would not understand. And who did that leave? Sir Phillip? He, who had been forced into a marriage and parenthood would probably believe she was in a luxury position to bide her time and wait for someone she actually wanted to marry to come around.

It was impossible on either side. If she married, she had to leave behind her mother and remaining siblings. But if she stayed, she would soon find herself into an empty nest without confidantes and only much younger children around. With the added bonus of, though her family would never tell her so, being the disappointment of the family. Already her younger sister was fast approaching an engagement while she remained with no beau in sight.

She sighed, tapping her pen against her desk. Her frustrations itched to get out, but there was simply no outlet possible.

_“To Sir Phillip,_

_My brother Colin has come home for the holidays. He went to the Ottoman Empire this time, and brought along some seeds for my – or so he believes – fruitless attempts at gardening. He says some are called damask roses, some are called Mulein (whatever that thing is supposed to look like I have no clue, I hope you do), some tulip seeds (those I know, they grow around Aubrey Hall but these are a different kind, apparently tulips originally came from Asia and not the Netherlands?!) and cyclamen (apparently a very pretty pink flower). I hope you’ll be able to amuse yourself with them. In case you have no idea what they are or how to grow them I’d say you should just plop them in the ground and see what happens. Colin brought them home for me, knowing very well I cannot keep anything alive, so anything you do will doubtlessly be a better fate than the one they’d suffer at my hands.”_

She sighed, dipping her pen into the ink again. She missed just talking to him. Worried for him too, since it was clear he had no one to talk to, not freely at least. But on the other hand she liked their letters as well, for the simple fact that in letters he was not so silent. Instead of long silences followed by slowly collected words, Eloise was now responding to full lines of thoughts.

If only he had more practice talking, perhaps he’d be faster to say what he thought, she wished.

_“It has been a while since I last visited Romney Hall. How are the other plants faring? Did you give your dare a try? I kept my word. Tried to write my book. My second one is much slower than anticipated though. I feel as though I have many ideas, but I can’t string them together. And I’m too distracted with things in my own life to focus fully on fictional lives. I find I cannot create a narrative that’s as interesting or nuanced as real life, and I do love making things lifelike and painfully recognisable.”_

That was all the reference she could put in about her own challenges, she felt.

_“Oh, and it is also almost the twins’ birthday, is it not? Give them my congratulations.”_

Eloise then paused. Realising that doing so would be to admit to their correspondence.

_“In hindsight, just know I thought of them. That is enough. Four is quite the age. I wish you strength and courage, you’ll need it.”_

Eloise’s writing was interrupted by the arrival of the Earl of Kilmartin and his cousin, so Eloise hid her letter and joined her sister in the sitting room.

The gay company had not waited for her presence to get started, all sat on the couches with tea already in hand.

‘Since I’m the current Miss Bridgerton I shall pour myself than’, Eloise decided with a smirk, pouring herself a cup.

Francesca shot her an apologetic smile.

The boys continued. While the oldest of the two was three years older than Phillip, both looked a decade younger. Having children really takes its toll, she noted with amusement.

‘Isn’t this vastly superior to sitting around in the mud all day waiting to risk your life, or getting shaken by waves on a boat around Spain somewhere?’ John joked to his cousin.

‘Well, the company and tea are certainly preferable’, Michael smiled, throwing a charming grin at Francesca and Eloise.

‘Why would you say that, is he usually off traveling?’ Eloise asked.

‘No. Although I do love a good bit of travel. No, my cousin is trying to convince me of the superiority of a life of leisure to a life of service. I think his cry of joy could be heard all the way to the indies when I was decommissioned.’

‘You were in the army?’

‘Yes. But now that Napoleon is defeated and it is clear no big European war will happen the next few years, the navy has decommissioned a lot of young men. I’m lucky I have a very friendly nephew with a nice title and slew of houses but those poor sailors from simple backgrounds are now unemployed without anything to fall back on. I hope they will be fine.’

‘Did you ever fight?’

‘I did, in Spain’, Michael admitted, surprise written on his face that a woman was so interested in fighting.

‘I know someone whose brother fought in Spain’, Eloise said. ‘But then again, I imagine a great many people fought there. You cannot possibly have known them all.’

‘No indeed’, Michael admitted. ‘But we were a tight club. Everyone knew a great many people, met them in bars and pubs, sailors were switched from boat to boat whenever someone died here or there, survivors of attacked ships were thrown together onto new ships so we all know quite the list of gentlemen. Be it personally or via hearsay. Do you know the gentleman’s name?’

Well, Eloise could not pass up on that opportunity.

‘His name was George Crane, he would have gone by Sir Crane, I believe. He was the heir to his father’s baronetcy.’

Michael froze, his brows lowering into a frown.

‘What, what is it?’ Francesca and John asked simultaneously.

‘I did know him’, Michael admitted, looking up at Eloise. ‘He died, in battle. On the ship right beside mine. It was cannoned to Davy Jones’ locker. No survivors. We managed to get away just in time, water running into our ship through over five cannon holes. Got pretty rough.’

‘Oh my God!’ Francesca cried out.

‘You never told me’, John accused.

‘Said I got into a pretty heated battle, said I got out’, Michael shrugged.

Eloise watched, hoping he would give her something more.

‘Great man, great singing voice. Pity we lost him. He was one of the few that could play an instrument. Was greatly appreciated when we had some downtime’, Michael continued, turning back to Eloise.

‘Wait, didn’t he have some fiancée? He was always talking about her. Insisted on singing love songs every day as well. Replaced the names in shanties with her name all the time as well, like in Molly Malone. What was it, Marie? Maria?’

Michael focussed, trying to catch almost five year old memories.

‘Marina.’

‘That’s it!’ he smiled. Then he remembered why he was looking for it.

‘What happened to her? If you know the brother you may have heard about her?’

‘Actually, I was a little bit wrong in saying I knew the brother. I knew the brother through her, Marina, you see. She uhm, she married him.’

‘He married his dead brother’s fiancée?’ Francesca asked, completely oblivious.

Michael’s gaze darted over to Francesca.

‘It is honourable’, John said, ‘to protect his brother’s beloved and honour his brother’s vows.’

‘Why I could never imagine one of my sisters taking on – ‘ Francesca cut herself off, cheeks flaming.

Eloise paused, alarm bells ringing in her head. Had it already happened? No no no. Oh god, she was losing her sister.

‘It is not the same though. When a man proposes, they offer a lady their protection, their surname, their home and their wealth. And if a lady and a man have been engaged for a while, others might not feel very inclined to marry her. The man’s brother clearly respected his wish to offer the young lady a home. A fiancée can be passed on from brother to brother. I know the government disapproves but personally I have always understood the practice of both the Bible and our country of marrying a brother’s wife. That way the woman can keep enjoying the protection of the family she married into and have some stability. Especially when there’s children involved it’s important she be given access to the money and home she had become accustomed to.’

‘Yet it sounds a bit creepy’, Francesca said.

‘Marriage is something both parties ought to wish. To me… it seems disrespectful to the groom. Is it not the bible that says: thou should not covet thy brother’s wife? Or something like it.’

‘He did not want her’, Eloise interjected.

‘Indeed, it’s not about wanting. It’s about honour and duty’, John said with a smile.

‘But if she wanted to marry the brother, and he did not wish to marry the bride, does that not make both miserable?’ Francesca asked.

Indeed it did, indeed it did.

‘They can learn to love. And take comfort in the fact they’re doing their duty and honouring the vows they made’, John decided.

‘Pass him along my condolences when you see him, even though it’s been a while. Great chap. Really made some boring and bad days pleasant.’

Eloise nodded.

She couldn’t help herself from going to Francesca’s room that night.

‘Am I disturbing you?’

‘Right now? No’, Francesca smiled as she let her sister in.

‘Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?’

‘Kind of. Those boys.’

‘Ah’, Francesca said, sitting down in front of her vanity. She continued brushing out her hair.

‘What do you think about them?’ Eloise carefully asked.

‘They’re very nice and pleasant.’

‘Both in equal measure?’

‘Why? What do you think of them?’

‘I think they are very kind.’

‘Do you have a favourite?’ Francesca asked.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Nothing. Only… You seemed to get along well with Michael. You always do.’

Eloise had not considered that before.

‘It’s not so much that I like him more. Rather, it’s that you and the earl talk so much and get along so well. We can choose between staring at the two of you or having our own conversation.’

Francesca said nothing, her face giving nothing away.

‘You like him, don’t you?’ Eloise asked.

Francesca turned around to face her sister, smiling in admittance.

‘Has he proposed?’

‘Not yet.’

‘But you want him to?’

‘Yes, actually I do.’

‘He lives very far away, all the way up in Scotland.’

‘It’s adventurous, to be sure.’

‘You don’t mind being that far away from us?’

‘No, that’s you. Not me. I don’t mind living far away. Having my own life, perhaps I would enjoy the privacy. There’ll be no sisters asking me very personal questions late at night. I can always come by for a visit’, Francesca said with a grin.

‘Do you love him?’

‘I’ve only known him for two months.’

‘That is no answer’, Eloise noticed.

‘It’s… strange. In books it’s like lightning. Destiny. And Kate, Edwina and Daphne always said they just felt this instantaneous attraction. Even when they did not want to admit it to themselves yet. They saw them and just got this fluttery feeling. I never… felt such an excitement. But what I did feel was just… with every word we spoke… He could just say no wrong. There was this instant connection, a feeling of understanding. I feel like a very jagged piece of a puzzle that has finally found another piece I can click together with.’

Her entire face lit up when she spoke, and by the time she finished Eloise almost had tears in her eyes.

‘God, I’m so going to use that in a book’, Eloise laughed, a stray tear escaping the corner of her eye.

‘My Eloise, careful. I’m almost starting to believe you actually do have a soft romantic side.’

‘Do not tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold’, Eloise joked.

‘You truly do not wish to marry? Let’s be serious for a moment. Sister to sister. I told you about me.’

Eloise sighed.

‘To be honest, I want to marry. A couple of years ago I didn’t. I felt too young, I wanted to do so many things, I wanted to explore opportunities, even though I was told the only thing I could ever become was a wife. But I do want love. I look at all the happy couples around me and I do want that for myself too. However, I won’t marry just anyone. It’s like you said, you want the pieces of the puzzle to fit. And I’m afraid I’m quite a unique piece myself. Any man I married would have to accept I’d never stop travelling around to visit my family. I’d never stop writing. I would want to talk about intellectual things most men only talk about with other men. And I’m controlling, I’m managing. I talk too much. There’s few men who would not only tolerate that, but accept that and appreciate me.’

‘You ever saw such a man?’ Francesca asked in earnest.

Eloise paused and thought, going through all the men she’d ever had long conversations with. Not her brothers, not her suitors, not the rogues of London, not the boring lawyers and entitled parliamentarians, not the rural gentry… wait.

Eloise swallowed when she thought of all the letters sent back and forth, of all the encouragement written, of all the silently accepted advise and management of a certain set of twins and the silent acceptance of her rants. There was such a man. But did she love him? Such a strong word. Certainly she would have known by now, she had interacted with him for over three years.

‘Does it matter? They need to be able to marry me.’

‘And they aren’t?’

‘No. But it’s fine. It can’t be there’s only one man on earth who tolerates me.’

‘You know mother would understand if their background wasn’t… the best. Daphne married a rake and Benedict…’

It was far worse than even Benedict.

Eloise laughed.

‘Enough about my miserable dramatic lovelife. If I wanted more about it, I would read Lady Whistledown. But you, dear sister, you will leav the nest soon then. Are you nervous?’

‘Not really. I’m not exactly a debutante. It’s time I marry. I just wish… there was any way I could prepare for it. I have three married siblings but I still feel like I’m ruefully unprepared.’

‘Perhaps we should bribe Annie, hear her out’, Eloise suggested. ‘We cannot be blamed for wanting to be prepared.’

‘Indeed’, Francesca smiled. ‘Eloise, that’s a wonderful idea.’

The next morning they put their pocket money together for what would be their best investment ever.

_“Just the other day we had some visitors over, the Earl of Kilmartin and his cousin, Mr. Stirling. We were just talking when the latter mentioned having been to war. How small the world is, he mentioned knowing your brother. He said he found him a very accomplished musician who managed to make even the darkest night very gay indeed._

_By the way, I recently read this book called Frankenstein. It’s awful. Nothing I write will ever be as good as that. Might as well break my pen.”_

January was not a good month for Eloise. First, she thought she would be happy. A new Austen book was coming out, and her sister would be getting married.

But it took less than a day before Eloise started feeling alone, despite that Benedict and his wife, and Colin were in the town house the day after Francesca’s wedding. Because she knew that they would soon leave and abandon her. And when she tried to comfort herself with the book she’d bought just days before the wedding, Persuasion, she did not get past the first two pages without bursting into tears.

The author’s identity was finally unveiled. The icon and rolemodel of Eloise’s youth was called Jane Austen, and she had died aged forty-one the past year as an old maid. Eloise, who had always felt such a kinship with her, was gutted.

When she rushed outside she was too emotional to even lift a cigar.

‘Eloise?’ Benedict asked, who’d rushed after her.

‘I’ll die an old maid. I’ll die like her. I’ll die just like her. I can’t have it both ways. No one can’, she sobbed, wetting his coat.

‘Who? Who died?’

‘Jane Austen! The author. The… Pride and Prejudice writer’, she explained.

‘You don’t need to die an old maid.’

‘But no one wants me. I don’t fit them. I don’t fit anyone. No one can love me like all of you have found spouses.’

‘Eloise, please, don’t be dramatic. It’s not becoming.’

‘I’m not becoming. I’m the most unfit-for-marriage woman in the whole of London.’

‘You were always proud of that title.’

‘I was, I am. Argh! Damn it all’, she cursed.

‘You’re difficult. To be sure’, Benedict joked, placing her down on the bench. ‘But no more so than Anthony and look how blessed he is.’

‘I am nothing like Anthony’, she huffed, tears streaming down her face.

‘Sure you are. You avoided duty so you’d have time to do what you loved. You’re proud, you’re rash, you’re managing and you’re controlling.’

‘I’m not emotionally stuck-up’, she argued, wiping away her tears.

‘No, that you’re not’, Benedict admitted with a smile.

‘But who will want me? It’ll be my fifth season and I still haven’t found anyone.’

‘Sure, you’re a bit late. But Posy is also still unmarried, as is Penelope, and even Penelope’s older sister’, he argued.

‘And we are all frowned upon.’

‘Eloise, bugger the frowns. I had thirteen seasons. As did Anthony. Sometimes it takes a little more time.’

‘If I have to wait eight more seasons Hyacinth will have children by the time I’m married’, Eloise protested.

‘I’ll have to see all of my siblings leave. Every year one of you is leaving the nest, and I remain behind with the younger children. And now even those younger than me are getting married. I don’t want you all to stay alone, but it’s a miserable affair staying behind. Even though I really really love mother.’

Benedict rubbed her head.

‘I understand your frustration. Or rather, I don’t, I pity you because I know Anthony and I were able to have our own separate lives even though we remained unmarried. And we weren’t looked at the same way single women were looked at.’

‘Thanks for the recognition.’

‘Smoke?’

‘Please.’

She rubbed the last stubborn tears away and accepted the offered poison with shaking hands.

‘Miss Bridgerton?’

Eloise looked up from the ground she’d been staring at while smoking.

‘Yes?’

‘A letter just arrived for you.’

‘You can give it to me’, she told the butler.

‘Another letter? What a faithful pen pal you have’, Benedict smiled.

Eloise shot him a smile and opened the letter.

_“Dear Miss Bridgerton,_

_Tulips are indeed originally from Central Asia, they grow in the Hindu Mountains and were cultivated a thousand years before our time calendar started. They were first imported into Holland two centuries ago by Oghier Ghislain de Busbecq, an ambassador of Emperor Ferdinand I to Suleyman the Magnificent. De Busbecq, besides being a diplomat was also a lover of beautiful nature, and much admired the sophisticated hybrids growing in the royal court in Istanbul. He shipped some bulbs to Carolus Clusius in Prague, who eventually took over the botanical gardens in Leiden, ensuring the widespread distribution of tulips in Europe. Thank you for sending them to me. I endeavour to make them grow. As I do with all plants. I have yet to fail a seed you sent me. Perhaps you can come admire them sometime in the future when you and your friend visit my wife._

_I have given your dare a try. And although not immediately successful I have managed to create some hybrid vegetables and apples. I am sure you will manage to write your second book. If you find those things in life more interesting, why not incorporate them in your book? Nothing is as lifelike as life. Not that making books and growing vegetables are anything alike, but I always start out with something that already exists. I cannot make a pea from scratch, I need a plant to start out with. I do also not understand why you would stop simply because someone else has made something good. It’s comparing apples to pears but I would never give up on cultivating tomatoes because someone else has better tomatoes. I still need nourishment and mine work just fine for that._

_Ah, it brings me joy to know my brother is remembered fondly. I thank you for passing me along something good about him…_

_~~W-~~ _

_~~My wi~~ _

_~~Eloi~~ _

_~~Miss B~~ _

_Marina is in very poor health and very unhappy. Could you and your friend please come at the earliest opportunity? Packed for a few weeks? ~~I do not know how I can~~ I am sorry for being unsensible but she has made an attempt on her life and I do not know how I can help her. And there’s the twins. All I know was that during the presence of you and your friend she was doing better. _

_Phillip.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the book of Francesca it was written that Michael had been in the navy and had attended active battle. It was also said Francesca felt like a piece of a puzzle that finally found its match when she met John. I also gave a wink at Michael’s feelings about marrying Francesca in the future. In Eloise’s book it was also mentioned she and Francesca bribed Annie Mavel for details about sex. While no moment in time is given for this it was also mentioned that Francesca later told Eloise that the information was ‘absolutely correct’, which led me to think Francesca’s wedding and the bribe must have been close in time.
> 
> For clarity: letters were regularly written over multiple days. As people thought of things to add in or ask family members whether they wanted to add something. Paper was expensive so you wanted to fill it. Phillip didn't start writing the letter and then said "oh besides, about my wife". That happened another day and he immediately send it after.


	12. Chapter 12

‘I’ve forgotten an umbrella’, Eloise muttered as their carriage hobbled across the uneven country road.

‘I just realized I should have brought more than seven pairs of stockings. We’ll be gone for more than a week’, Penelope said.

‘I think I’ve forgotten to pack pins for my hair, except the ones I’m currently using.’

It was a bit of a dichotomy, their talk about trivial matters and the bright day outside while they were on their way to what would without a doubt be their bleakest visit to Gloucestershire ever. However they felt the topic was too grave to speak of.

Even when Eloise had informed Penelope she had merely read the relevant piece of the letter, after which they had instantly started discussing their trip, and not the event leading up to it. Sometime later, after the travel plans were made, Penelope did ask Eloise why Sir Phillip knew where she lived, to which Eloise told perhaps her first lie to Penelope ever – alright, not a lie but rather an omission of the truth – by saying she had borrowed a book from him and had to send it back.

‘You need more pins than the ones you’re using?’

‘Pen, my hair is braided so I don’t have to deal with an annoying bun when I lean back against the headrest. I had my braid pinned up with five pins at most just so mother would let me out of the house. Decent ladies having their hair decently done, and all.’

‘Well I have more than enough. Anyways, perhaps you don’t even have to pin it if you don’t want to… Should we spend all the time in the house there is no reason to.’

Eloise chewed on her cheek, doing her best not to say the first impulsive thing that popped up into her head. It was getting easier with age, but it never became easy.

‘Let’s hope we’ll leave the house, get some sunshine, some pleasant activities. My maids certainly packed dresses for some outdoor action.’

‘Mine too, but then it is expected fashionable society holds soirees every night’, Penelope smiled.

Eloise was just about to ask what the fashionable society would think of Whistledown disappearing, but then she remembered that Whistledown was still in hibernation. In a way it was almost a good thing it had happened now and not in the midst of a season when her absence would have been noticed.

‘Perhaps there’s a future Whistledown pun in there. In case you ever want to critique someone’s dress you could joke that despite being part of fashionable society they are not so very fashionable’, Eloise suggested with a grin, being overly proud of her joke.

Penelope rolled with her eyes, trying to stop a small smile..

‘I can’t help but feel responsible’, she sighed.

Eloise remained quiet, allowing her friend the time to vocalize her thoughts.

‘I cannot see how Colin could have ever been happy, married to someone who didn’t love him with such a big lie between them. But I can’t help but think I should have handled it better than publish the story and make her fall from grace. She still could have chosen then. I just… I was such a stupid seventeen year old fool, a desperate foolish child with a way too powerful weapon.’

Eloise didn’t particularly disagree. But on the other hand pointing that out or staying together any longer was not exactly desirable either. So she chose the third option.

‘Do you think she would have fared better with another husband?’

‘I don’t know’, Penelope sighed.

‘On the one hand the children are cared for by his family, and they are getting exactly the type of raising and luxury that was their birth right. And in a way it must be a comfort that her children still carry his name. But on the other hand she is confronted by how everything that should have been his is now his brother’s. And how everything they should have shared, she is now sharing with someone else. The children are loved by both, which would not have at all been certain had they been raised by someone who knew they weren’t his. Just look at how awfully Sophie was treated by someone who actually was her father. Oliver will inherit all that belonged to his father, which is a big gift for a child. He would have forever been separated from what he deserved had Marina married another.’

Eloise nodded. That was true.

‘But for Marina? They really don’t fit, do they? I want a love match but I’m more than familiar with marriages of convenience, and believe those can indeed still be solid and – if not affectionate – at least cordial. But there’s nothing there. They are not able to support or understand each other. They might as well not be married and just be two very distant cousins raising children together. I can’t help… I can’t help but think of a conversation we had the night before she wanted to marry Colin and she said… Gosh… When I asked her how she could marry knowing George had not forsaken her and she was entrapping Colin she said she would be comfortable and at peace knowing Colin was a good and kind man who would care for the children. And now she has a husband who is that but… well. Apparently that is not enough to feel good and happy. Perhaps a man who was more like her, more like George, could have helped her feel better. But on the other hand, maybe she never would have gotten over it, how George died and she had spent the last three months believing the worst of him. Knowing they could have been together had faith been kinder. If you meet your person… Is that not what they say? That there’s one person out there for everyone? But what if they die? How can you live knowing you’ll never meet someone like that again?’

Eloise let out a soft sigh of relief. She was glad she was not alone in having such thoughts, rude and pessimistic as they were.

‘I do think there must be a way of living. I think my mother still mourns my father, but she is not unhappy. And personally I cannot understand how one person can make or break your life while we are all so connected to so many people. I don’t have a person yet I have so much to live for. I have my siblings, my career, my nieces and nephews, you,… many people. Even if one of them was to fall away, there would still be so much. Just now actually, a letter was delivered to me right before we stepped into our carriage’, Eloise explained.

She lifted Francesca’s letter that had been laying beside her on the bench.

‘I love him madly. Madly! Truly, I would die without him.’, Eloise said, reading the relevant phrase.

‘She hasn’t even been married a week. A week! I do not have a husband nor do I pretend to fully understand romantic feelings but it seems particularly odd to me that someone believes a setback like that would destroy them forever. My mother, who I believe loved like no other remained standing. Surely the rest of us are made of the same cloth. We’re not some dainty gothic horror heroines wasting away from grief, sadness or for moral corruption’, Eloise said, half humorous and half honest.

‘But you are always saddened when another one of your siblings marry’, Penelope pointed out.

‘There you have a point, but still I don’t think my life becomes less meaningful. I only find it… lonelier.’

‘Sometimes I feel lonely too, even with two thirds of my sisters still being at home. Not that I ever had much of a bond with the older two but still… I’m afraid of remaining behind alone. It’s not odd. Perhaps that’s why losing someone you love is so awful. Because with a sibling, you know you’re not staying together forever. When you fall in love, you’re planning on spending every day with them. They are meant to cure the loneliness. And when they’re gone, you’re left with a hole that’s perhaps… impossible to fill up. And when you’ve been together with that person, you know exactly how big that hole is that they left. Since you’ve had the chance to live with that hole filled.’

‘We should stop talking like this, it sounds awfully deterministic. People can only love once. Once lost is lost forever. We’re not Mr. Darcy talking about his good opinion or Captain Wentworth about love. Second attachments exist, just look at Colonel Brandon. New chances arise, look at Anne and Wentworth. And women whose husbands died can still be mightily happy or content, as many Austen widows attest.’

And then a marvellous thing happened. After months without inspiration, their conversation sparked a flame inside her head. How fitting that just a small week after Sir Phillip told her to use her own life for inspiration she found some right in the carriage ride to his home.

An image of two sisters sitting in front of each other appeared. One with a husband who died and did not believe in second attachments. And one who was just navigating love for the first time, and would be looking for that one romantic love of her sister but find it again in another.

Eloise did not notice the silence, her imagination too active, but Penelope did, and it sounded heavy to her ears.

‘We’re never going to get any books by her again’, Penelope said, voice heavy.

‘I can’t finish the book’, Eloise admitted.

‘I just can’t. Knowing it’s… knowing it’s the last one. I’m savouring it. Every page. I’ve even started rereading it. I’ve read every chapter thrice now. But those last sixty pages… I can’t. Then it’s over.’

‘You should bring tribute to her in your next one’, Penelope suggested. ‘Many by now have said you are to be Austen-esque but uhm… Gosh… What was the saying again?’

‘I was a hammer, blunt hard and unsubtle where she was a knife, sharp and subtle in regards to societal critique’, Eloise recognized with a smile.

She had thought about it, honouring Austen. But she’d felt afraid of it, as it was already so clear from her prose she admired Austen. Perhaps she could give her credit by incorporating one of her favoured themes… Not marriage, that was something she already dealt with, and not societal critique, that was something every good book addressed. She considered the countryside, considered new money versus old money, considered the downfall of Bath in the public opinion. But nothing stuck. She needed a theme that would inspire the plot that up till now seemed to be about love and loss and family until…

The wars. Nothing lead to death, separated lovers and destroyed families like the wars with France.

‘I know that look’, Penelope said.

Eloise looked up, confused.

‘What?’

‘That look, that look on your face.’

‘What look, what of it?’

‘It’s your Eureka face. You’re thinking of something.’

‘Oh. A book.’

‘Naturally, I imagine talking about books must get your head started.’

‘I believe I’m finally getting some inspiration.’

‘Right now?’ Penelope asked in surprise.

‘You’re a disaster tourist, you know? You’re no better than those horrible people travelling to Waterloo to visit the war site and buy teeth and bullets of fallen soldiers.’

‘Excuse me, I’m not going to use any of this… these problems… for my book. I thought about love and using Austen as inspiration, as you said.’

‘Love?’

‘What we just discussed? About whether happiness was still possible after losing someone.’

‘That sounds like a thing I would read’, Penelope admitted.

‘I sure hope so, as my friend, it is your duty. And I expect a raving column about it in Whistledown.’

‘Are you pressuring and blackmailing Lady Whistledown?’

‘I’m the only one who can’, Eloise smirked.

They arrived at Romney Hall an hour after dark. A tired butler opened the door. He greeted them both and informed them dinner would be served early at six. Their usual bedrooms were already prepared. A heaviness fell over them. The reason for their journey could no longer be avoided.

‘Can our things be taken to our rooms? We would like to see Marina.’

‘I will ask whether Lady Crane can receive guests right now’, he said.

Two footmen took their suitcases and took them away while the butler made his enquiries.

‘The Lady Crane is sleeping. It has been decided it is better to let her sleep when she does fall asleep. Might I instead offer some refreshments in the dining room while I alert Lord Crane?’

‘Thank you’, Penelope said at the same moment Eloise said: ‘Where are the children?’

‘The children? They are having supper upstairs in the nursery I imagine.’

Eloise’s heart froze. They had eaten with their parents the last times they had been here.

They accepted the offer of refreshments.

The house was almost tomblike in silence, with the children for away and the owners hidden away in some upstairs rooms.

They had almost finished their glass of wine when the doors swung open. Sir Phillip looked wan and skeletal when he bowed for them. Just a week ago they had spoken so lightly of flowers, she was almost dizzy as they curtsied back in absolute silence. He motioned for them to sit back down again and quietly accepted a glass of cherry himself.

‘I hope the travel went well?’ he asked then, face confused.

_My, he almost doesn’t know how to have polite conversation anymore. How long has it been since I last saw him? It had almost been a year._

‘Yes, quite speedy. The weather was pleasant and the roads were good; Which isn’t evident this time of year’, Penelope smiled.

‘I see… uhm… It was good of you to come so fast. I apologise if it was inconvenient.’

‘We’re happy to be here… Well, not happy. But we wanted to come over when we heard the news. Had you not asked, we would have asked you whether we could’, Penelope said.

Eloise could only nod.

‘Yes. Very kind’, he nodded, taking another sip.

Eloise wished to help them navigate the conversation. But it would be awfully inappropriate to brush off a topic so heavy as him almost losing his wife.

‘Dinner will be served soon’, a servant said when silence could no longer be endured.

Soup came, followed by fish. Eloise threw in the towel and asked about the children and the estate and anything else he could occupy himself with that wasn’t Marina, just to keep silence at bay and gather information.

Since a few weeks before the incident Marina had become more fatigued, and had retreated more and more into her room, getting headaches after short times with the children. And after the incident, the children had been kept almost exclusively to their rooms, being only told their mother was unwell. They visited her for less than half an hour each day, bringing her carelessly plucked flowers and drawings. Because Phillip’s rhythm had been out of loop since the incident, he often sat with his wife or worked without paying attention to the clock. His eating times ranged between six and midnight, meaning the children ate alone at fixed hours with the nurses to keep their rhythm.

At the end of their meal, they were informed Marina had awoken, and all decided to venture up, Phillip going in first to warn her.

Marina was sitting up in her bed in a nightgown and robe, looking wan.

‘Pen’, she muttered, her voice low and soft. Penelope immediately flocked over.

‘It is not as bad as it looks. Really. There was no need to come.’

‘It’s alright. It doesn’t matter’, Penelope immediately said. ‘I wanted to come. I’m ever so sorry I couldn’t make it last year in the summer.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘No, we should have stayed in touch more.’

A doctor was still fuzzing around the bed, coughing to get attention.

‘I have consulted with your husband, Lady Crane’, the old man said. ‘I have come to the conclusion that to lift your spirits and reinvigorate your body, a change of scenery would serve you well. I would strongly advise you to take a restorative trip to Bath. Your husband would agree to such a treatment.’

Marina’s eyes, though tired, shrunk as she looked between her husband and the doctor.

‘You want me to leave?’

‘No, no. Not at all’, Phillip protested. ‘I merely. The doctor believes it could do you well, as it has served many others and you too seemed to be in lighter spirits when you went away last time.’

‘But…’ Marina closed her eyes, seemingly struggling to string together her thoughts. ‘You want me to leave my children?’

The doctor opened his mouth. Eloise was confident he was about to confirm it, but Phillip quickly interjected.

‘No.’

Marina visibly relaxed.

‘You can take them with you’, he said.

Eloise observed him, to see what he thought of what he suggested. The children were not his, but he had raised them as if they were, every day of their lives. To her contentment he did not look particularly happy about it. In sending them along with her, he would be without them.

‘To Bath.’

‘If you want.’

‘I insist a doctor and the children’s nurses accompany you. My lady, you need to rest. You need to focus on feeling well. Not on the children.’

‘Do you think I can not handle my own children?’ Marina demanded to know.

‘No, no I see it now. You think me mad. You think … because of my accident, I cannot assure my children’s safety.’

Eloise tried to look at the floor instead of Marina. Accident? Was that how she called it? She did not think her capable of hurting her children. But now she was curious to hear what Marina pretended it was. And for a second, she wondered if Marina knew that Eloise and Penelope knew the truth. She’d have to ask Phillip, so she could at least pretend to believe the lie.

‘Madam, I do not doubt you are a devoted mother. Rather, it is because it is in a mother’s selfless nature to put her children above her, that I believe you are better without them. You are suffering from a nervous complaint. You are melancholic. You told me you were not religious, so ruling that out, I must conclude, based on what my fellow practitioners have also observed and theorized the past few centuries, it must be because you need diversion. It is most prevalent in women who live a more quiet life. This is why I suggest a trip would do well to restore your spirits. And to focus on becoming well again it is imperative you get ample rest and ample time for yourself. Children of that age… it is not as if they are already so sensible a company that their absence is truly missed.’

Eloise was pretty sure that whenever her mother felt sad, taking her children from her would have been everything but the solution, but she could agree that a change of scenery could help Marina. She bit her lip.

‘I will not leave them’, Marina decided.

‘As you wish, madam’, the doctor nodded. ‘I have some tinctures. And a tea recipe I can recommend. I will leave them behind on my way out.’

The doctor greeted them and left.

Eloise walked over to the window. She couldn’t believe how she had been pitying her own life before, these people had so much more to complain about.

Marina deflated, all her bravado flowing out of her.

‘I’m sorry you had to witness that. Oh, and what about you? You just got here. And now I’ll be sent away’, Marina sighed.

‘Actually, I was planning on booking a house for you. And the ladies. Should they wish.’

‘Oh but we cannot accept’, Eloise protested.

‘No. No do come. I know no one there’, Marina exclaimed, taking Penelope’s hand in hers.

‘It’ll be perfect. Then it’ll be like a trip for leisure, not out of necessity.’

‘Well… I’ve never been to Bath’, Penelope smiled. ‘It’s not London but to be honest, I’ve seen London a thousand times over. I’m very curious to see it. I heard the buildings are beautiful, and I’ve never been to a thermal bath.’

Marina smiled at Penelope.

‘Since it is settled, I will leave you to talk’, Sir Phillip decided.

‘We have a lot of catching up’, Penelope smiled, doing her best to make the most of it.

Eloise paced to the other side of the room.

‘Perhaps, I should let you two catch up first, then?’ she suggested. ‘It’s been a long day and I don’t wish to make it anymore hectic.’

For a second she feared her phrasing would upset Marina, insinuating she was too fragile for a conversation with two persons. Surprisingly though, she nodded.

‘You don’t have to leave’, she tried.

‘It’s nothing’, Eloise said, coming over and patting Marina’s free hand. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to talk the next few weeks. My mother probably expects a letter informing her I have yet again survived a carriage ride without highwaymen robbing me or dying.’

‘A true feat’, Marina nodded.

Eloise left the room, practically storming through the hall. Sir Phillip was on his way down a flight of stairs.

‘How long did you plan for us to stay?’ Eloise asked, jumping down the stairs two steps a time. Sir Phillip turned around in surprise.

‘I apologize. I should have asked beforehand. You did not come prepared. How could you, you did not know. But I thought it better to prepare, and then accommodate, than to wait weeks awaiting your answer.’

‘Pen and I packed for a few weeks. And laundry can be done’, Eloise shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. I do not think we need anything extra. Our maids always give us clothes for every occasion.’

‘Ah. Good.’

‘But do you want to pay that, for us?’

‘I can afford it.’

‘I am not saying you cannot. I am merely surprised, it is not a cheap gift.’

‘The doctor believes this might work. What choice do I have? I knew she would not go alone.’

‘And you’d agree to be without the children for weeks?’

‘The other choice is making her unhappy. Which is the exact thing I am trying to stop’, he said, chest puffing up.

He raked a hand through his hair.

‘The doctor said it is melancholy. I cannot disagree, it is the adjective I would have given her behaviour, so why would she not have the illness itself? And the science says it is brought about by a monotonous, solitary lifestyle. That’s exactly what we have.’

‘There’s not so much you could have changed.’

‘I knew she wanted society. I knew she would have enjoyed town better. But I stayed at Romney because it was easier to look out for the lands and the tenants.’

‘Not every woman would have been unhappy to live here. She was not even opposed to living here, as she planned on marrying George. And neither of you really wanted…’

Phillip understood but all too well where her sentence was going. And did not accept the offered comfort. His eyes shone with exhaustion, frustration and resignation.

‘No. But does it matter? We are married. And now I have to do what will keep our children’s mother alive’, he decided.

‘So stay, for as long as you’re able. I know I am asking much. You are a writer. And you are both young women looking for husbands. I ask to put your lives on hold – ‘ he begged.

‘ – London’s full of bloody cads and rotters. I’d much rather be here. Wasn’t going to find myself anyone. I loathe all men in London and they detest me. Don’t think anyone will find me much of a prize anymore after four years of being out’, Eloise shrugged.

‘Can’t be’, he decided.

‘Oh no, it’s true’, Eloise smirked mirthlessly. ‘But hey, perhaps I find some inspiration in Bath. If it’s good enough for Austen, it’s more than good enough for me.’

‘Austen?’

‘The writer I loved. The one who wrote Pride and Prejudice. She died, apparently.’

‘Oh. A lot of famous people appear to be dying’, Sir Phillip nodded.

‘What is Marina’s account of the story?’ Eloise asked, whose mind went from dying to almost dying quite quickly. ‘She said she had an accident to the doctor.’

‘Her accident was consuming a very toxic blend of herbs. She claims she was just making tea and mixed bad things by accident, says as it was dark in the kitchen when she went downstairs to make it, she could not see the herbs she was using very well.’

‘Oh God.’

‘Indeed. It would be believable. But she never goes downstairs to make her own tea, and now she suddenly did.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

Sir Phillip flapped his arms helplessly.

‘I did not give her the tea, but I gave her this life.’

‘But – ‘

‘No. I failed. My brother would not forgive me if I did nothing and let the mother of his children die. I cannot give her what she needs. I can only hope someone else can.’

‘You did not know this would happen. You have no glass ball.’

‘It does not matter’, he decided.

She jumped a step back.

‘It kind of does. You did not want her to be unhappy. In fact, you always struck me as trying to be nice to her.’

‘Does it matter if my daughter breaks a glass that she did not plan to break it? The glass is still broken. Marina is my responsibility. If it was just about me I might… But Amanda and Oliver? How can I explain to them that… I feared, for one night… I was already going through imaginary speeches of how I would have to break it to them their mother was gone, just like that. You don’t know that burden. Of them. Of her. Of this title I neither asked nor wanted. But the fact that I did not ask for any of this does not give me an excuse to deal with it poorly And whilst I know others… others might look for something to make it all bearable… I cannot afford that, I do not earn that if I cannot take care of the bare minimum.’

Eloise reached out a hand, but he recoiled, shaking his head.

He struggled for words, five feet removed from her.

‘I apologize. That was neither your business nor your concern. I overstepped. Forgive me?’

Eloise could only nod.

‘Good. I apologize for the inconvenience. Let’s pretend it did not happen. Good evening.’

Eloise was left reeling when he stalked away, to his greenhouse no doubt. Shivers ran down her spine as she walked to her bedroom and got ready for bed.

It was not his outburst that had shocked her. It was the tragic unfairness of everything that struck her most. They were both miserable in positions neither wanted. But Phillip was right, by law Marina was his burden, and one he planned to carry honourably. She admired that. But while he tried to make the twins and Marina happy, who was looking after him? He was just as miserable.

With a heavy heart she started on her letting, trying to sound cheerful to her mother when reporting she would be staying away for an unknown period of time, and might be taking a trip to Bath. Words did not come easily. She was still only on her tenth line when a knock sounded on her door.

‘Come in.’

It was Penelope, with a small smile.

‘Hi.’

‘Hello.’

Penelope sank down on Eloise’s bed, and the tears that glimmered in her eyes started falling immediately. Eloise rushed over.

‘What a mess.’

‘We’re all alive. We can be fine again. Everyone has bad periods.’

‘Not that bad.’

‘Not most times, but still, people can become happy again.’

‘It’s not the first time El, one time she will succeed.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Back in eighteen-thirteen, when Marina was living with us and was pregnant with the twins she… we went away to a dinner party and she remained behind. And when we came home I knocked on her door. And I found her. And she was… She was unconscious. And I really thought I lost her. And that she was dead. She survived. The doctor called it a miracle. She later told me she had hoped to end the pregnancy with it. She risked her life because she feared she had no future. And now she just confessed… she couldn’t imagine continuing like this forever.’

And while Eloise had sometimes felt a bit blue, she had never felt like that. So she just sat down, and stroked Penelope’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “… I am sure it is not worth such high drama. I do not profess to know or understand romantic love between husband and wife, but surely it is not so all-encompassing that the loss of one would destroy the other. You are stronger than you think, dear sister. You would survive quite handily without him, moot point though it may be.” This is what Eloise wrote to Francesca 3 weeks after the wedding of Francesca, according to TSPWL. So I tried to incorporate her sentiments into the chapter.
> 
> Fun history titbit; Penelope calling Eloise a Waterloo tourist is the same as people nowadays getting called “disaster tourists”. From the day after the Battle of Waterloo, people from the city of Brussels and the surrounding area (Belgium, despite Julia Quinn making the mistake of writing “Belgium” in her novels, did not yet exist) arrived on the battlefield to see it for themselves. British tourists followed not long after. The muddy battlefield even got wooden pathways and outposts for tourists, and very macabre souvenirs were sold there. Some quite disturbing accounts can be read in this very detailed article: https://janeaustenslondon.com/tag/regency-tourism/. Some might also remember the character of Thenardier from Les Misérables stealing from corpses to sell. Battlefields were truly ruthless and people sought to make coin from the misery. 
> 
> Melancholy was one of the four classic humours that were supposed to be able to posses a body, some others you may know are “choleric” and “phlegmatic”. By the 1810’s the medical opinion on humours was shifting a bit. Bloodletting and other things meant to rebalance the four “humours” was slowly changing to a more modern way of dealing with illness. But women were still often called “nervous” and “hysteric”, based on choleric tempers, and melancholy also remained a diagnosis. In the 1861 book Beach’s Family Physician, Dr. Wooster Beach describes melancholy as: “A low kind of delirium, with a fever; usually attended with fear, heaviness, and sorrow, without any apparent occasion.” The same doctor thought the cause was “Sometimes it is occasioned by a sedentary life and solitude, and by acute fevers or other diseases. It is sometimes the effect of excessive venery; and is frequently produced by gloomy and fanatical notions of religion.” And the treatment was: “…amused with a variety of scenery; and take freely of exercise in the open air, such as riding, walking, gardening, farming, &c. He should peruse interesting books, and converse with cheerful friends; and above all, be located amid pleasant scenery, where he can enjoy a water prospect, a country air, and country diet.”  
> Now he was just one doctor, but a lot of his opinions were common sense. Many housewives of the higher echelons he dealt with married without love and had no hobbies or activities they enjoyed. And if the people were religious, particularly protestant, enjoying life was sometimes considered quite sinful, and they lived with restricted diets and entertainments while believing they would be punished for their actions at death, that won’t make anyone happy. Water therapy was also a universally hailed medicine, hence everyone in Austen books always going to the seaside, to Bath, or to lakes, whatever. In mental asylums, the places you really didn’t want to end up, water therapy was also used in the shape of ice baths, or they were thrown tied in cold showers and baths while their hands and feet were tied. However, people in the regency benefitted from a much more natural type of medicine than the later Victorians, who were often prescribed with laudanum, lots of alcohol and other drugs.


	13. Chapter 13

_“Bath really is a marvellous place, mother. I need only walk out of the house and stand still for a minute and behold, I am showered fully and can return inside. To be frank it has been years since I have witnessed such a wet February. Does it rain as much in London? I have not had a single dry day yet._

_Not that it matters a lot, we stay busy. We’ve been to musical performances, theatres and operettas in the evenings. And in the day we managed to visit pleasant little shops tucked away at the bottom of elegant buildings. The whole city looks like it was built in a single day, everything looks so similar, compared to London where you can look at a street and see buildings clearly belonging to five different centuries. We have also visited the thermal baths, the pump rooms and the walking rooms which were very pleasant._

_I found myself looking for a Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot as I walked there. I cannot hope to inspire tourism the way Austen created for Lyme Regis and locations and shops she described in Bath, but I do feel tempted to write about real locations in my next book and name drop them. I have written forty pages so far and must say I am quite satisfied. Already some characters have decided to be quite different from what I imagined them, and many pages have been thrown into the fireplace and provided warmth for us these cold February nights. But that’s just the way writing goes. I hope everyone is well at home?”_

‘Is he there yet?’ Amanda whispered.

‘No. But I would advise you not to speak. A talking table is a dead giveaway of a hiding sibling’, Eloise told her.

She put down her quill and focussed on her hearing. She couldn’t really hear footsteps anywhere.

‘But currently the coast is clear’, Eloise informed the girl who was hiding under Eloise’s writing desk in the white drawing room.

‘It takes him sooo long’, Amanda complained.

‘That means you are very good.’

‘Or that he is not trying.’

‘Potentially.’

‘What is potentially?’

‘Maybe’, Eloise informed her.

‘Oh, okay.’

Eloise finished up her letter and took her writing back.

In the three weeks they had been here, Eloise had little time to write. Usually autumns and winters were her most productive period as there weren’t as many invitations and balls as there were during the season. But they had gone somewhere almost every afternoon and evening. And when they were at home, Penelope felt disinclined to leave Marina alone for even half an hour, even when Marina was so exhausted she did nothing but lay down and sleep on the couch. That meant Eloise usually only had the mornings and the darkest hours of night to write.

She dipped her pen into the ink again. All characters were almost in the right place to start the plot. In the end the story had become about five siblings during the wars with Napoleon. The youngest brother had been on his grand tour when the war broke out and he was killed. In Eloise’s story the family was just about to receive the letter announcing it.

And then everything would start happening. The oldest sister’s husband, a general, would go to war and die, leaving her behind with her young daughter. The younger sister, Anna, would fall in love with a sailor who was in England to rest for a few months. But her mother would disapprove, as she knew how the eldest was hurt by her husband’s death. But no sooner would disaster be averted than the oldest brother, Duke Edward, enlisted in the war to avenge his youngest brother. Just like Anthony when he was young, he would be rash and impulsive, and pay for it by getting imprisoned in France. Leading his wife to miscarry and the second brother, Daniel to struggle with the pressure of being an interim duke.

Amidst all misery Anna would become the beating heart of the family, supporting her sister and her child, and supporting her brother in the management of the dukedom. All while her heartache lingered and her young years ticked by. And so what if Anna was a combination of Eloise, Violet Bridgerton, Anne Elliot and Elinor Dashwood?

So what if basically every plot point was stolen from people she knew or other books? Was it not as was said: life was the best inspiration for writing.

The book would deal with the devastation the war had on England. It would show the disadvantages of the inheritance system, the pressure on heirs and wives and the ups and downs of marrying versus staying alone. And this book could not be called a silly romance novel. It was a real book full of politics, intrigues and plot.

Eloise was shaken out of her focus when a pair of boots raced down the stairs into the living room.

‘I fell asleep on the floor looking under the closet. Where is Amanda? Have you seen her?’

‘I… I have not’, Eloise said.

Against her legs, she could feel Amanda shaking with joy.

‘Oh no’, he sighed, trudging out of the room.

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

Eloise looked up at the clock beside the door. It was almost one. High time for lunch. It was actually surprising she had not seen Penelope yet. Marina was not surprising, she only came down around two every day and never had breakfast.

She was nearing the end of the chapter showing the initial devastation the news caused, giving hints of how each family member was going to take it. She chewed on her cheek. Was it too much misery?

Life was misery, it was fine. She brushed back her hair, cracked her fingers, and started again.

‘Good God, have you written all of that today?’ Penelope asked when she entered the drawing room.

‘No, I’ve written… Uhmm…’

Eloise leafed through the pages. ‘Eight of these yesterday.’

‘Heavens, Eloise’, Penelope stammered.

‘Let’s get some soup and bread for lunch.’

‘Aren’t we going to wait for Marina?’

‘It’s past two already. I don’t think she’ll come down in time for lunch’, Penelope admitted.

‘You think it’s a bad day?’ Eloise asked, glad the nurse had finally come to pick up the children at half past one.

‘I don’t know. But it was quite late yesterday, perhaps she was just very tired.’

Eloise shrugged. ‘Let’s hope it’s just her being tired. Should we send a maid in?’

‘Already did before I came downstairs. Let’s hope she brings some news over lunch’, Penelope said as they walked out of the drawing room.

‘How is the writing going?’

‘Good. Good. Killed the first guy’, Eloise grinned.

‘The first? How many will die?’

‘Oh, at least him and the one husband. I haven’t decided whether to kill the oldest brother as well.’

‘You’re horrible’, Penelope laughed.

‘They won’t be calling me a female writer talking about female worries anymore. That is certain.’

‘But how will you solve it?’

‘Solve what?’

‘The story. Certainly you won’t let misfortune after misfortune befall them without anything happening or changing or them taking charge of their own destiny, and then just end the story. Doesn’t sound like you. You’re more positive. And you would never let life run over a person. People happen to life. At least in your books.’

Eloise sat down at the table. It was already dressed with bread, cheeses and cold meat. She took a carrot from a plate.

‘I don’t know, actually. I was so glad I finally had characters, and then the plot came so naturally… But I have no clue about the ending at all.’

Life was just misery. And she had not seen a single one of the problems the book tackled being solved in a happy manner.

‘I might just leave it dreary.’

‘Oh, please don’t. Life is already so awful. We need some hope in books, it’s our escape from reality’, Penelope said.

‘That is true’, Eloise admitted. Did she want her life to remain like this? Did she want to end up alone like Jane Austen? Was someone who was forced in an unhappy situation necessarily doomed?

‘Perhaps it’s hard to see sunshine, with all the rain’, Penelope suggested.

‘It’s much easier to be happy in spring.’

‘Yes, perhaps new happy ideas will come to me then. I’ve got a crew for my boat and a course. But who knows where the waves take us, or where we finally end up? I’ll just leave it up to fate, see it when I get there’, Eloise decided.

Marina did take her first stay-in day that day. And half out of fear, Penelope and Eloise did stay inside as well, just in case. But it was not the last. The next day Marina came downstairs, but was too tired for more than a carriage ride around town. It got better after that, but days of staying in did become routine. And although being in Bath and being out clearly had positive effects on her, they were not as great as they had been at the wedding of Penelope’s sister.

Eloise did not know for how long Phillip had planned to let them stay. Were they waiting on an improvement, a shift in her mood, that would mean she was well enough to come home again?

March was just a few days away. The new season was fast approaching. They had less than a month left. Penelope could not be out of London from April onward. And she’d have to spend at least a week catching up on gossip to start her Whistledown papers. That meant she had to be back preferably by the last week of June. Eloise was considering this when looking out of a window and appraising the growing green leaves on a tree. Just as she turned around and decided she had better rejoin society, she bumped into someone who had been on their way to a window.

‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss’, the man stammered.

‘It’s nothing. I should have watched where I was going.’

‘The fault is mine. I am in desperate need of some air, clearly, my head was so clouded I did not notice you.’

‘As was mine and I was at the window’, Eloise laughed. The man leaned against the window sill, breathing in the air streaming in through the opening.

He was dressed in all black. A widower. Or a brother in the first stage of mourning.

‘Perhaps a prolonged stay at the window would not be a bad decision, then?’

‘So it appears. But I did not wish to appear rude in the eyes of the companions I am here with’, she said, waving in the direction of Marina and Penelope who were talking to the pianist who had delivered a fine concerto not half an hour earlier.

‘Ah, I see; Friends or sisters?’

Eloise lifted an eyebrow. They would be the most mismatched sisters on the planet.

‘Friends’, he decided. ‘You could have been a bunch of sisters-in-law.’

‘That could have been’, Eloise agreed.

‘Mr. Plyath’, he introduced himself.

‘Miss Bridgerton.’

‘Bridgerton? As in… not the author?’

‘The very one.’

‘The one who wrote men considered women human vases?’

Eloise coughed an awkward laugh.

‘Yes, that one.’

She had felt so clever writing Penelope’s joke. But now she feared it could get some backlash, seeing as she had grouped all men together.

‘I might disagree with you on that one.’

‘I think many people disagree with me on a great many things.’

‘But do you actually believe that? Or was that just a bit of critique at some men? Or merely the perspective of one of your characters?’

‘Uhm… Well, I have a lot of brothers, and I had a father… So I cannot pretend no decent men exist. I do think they treated their wives properly.’

The man smiled.

‘Yes, I cannot pretend there are not some men who consider wives a requirement to have, not people to interact with. I tend to disagree. I have a sister, you know. Or I had. I apologize, I am still getting used to it. But it does make a man treat a woman differently when they know them well.’

‘Oh, my condolences.’

‘Childbirth, nothing to do about it’, the man said, with a sad smile.

‘It’s one of my first times being out. After all the enforced silence it’s a bit overwhelming to be around so many people again.’

‘I see. So you did have a seclusion?’

‘Yes. I know I needn’t, but I really needed some time.’

‘I respect that a lot’, Eloise admitted.

And just like that. It clicked.

The man merged with another in her head. And the event translated itself into a scene.

She would have the two sisters go to Bath together with the oldest brother, who needed to recover from his long imprisonment. There the youngest one would bump into a man dressed in black. His brother had died during the war as well. The young man would be a scholar who had not expected to inherit. They would talk and get along very well. During a conversation he would bring up how his brother was a sailor, and it would become clear the sailor she had rejected years ago was his brother. Anna would feel guilty about the engagement, and sad for what had not been. She would spend time together with this man, and grieve together for their dead brothers and the heavy burdens of war. In their suffering, they would comfort each other. Both would have lost their dreams and future because of the war, but they would find new ones in the ashes.

‘Miss Bridgerton?’

She blinked.

‘I’m sorry. Lost in thought. Happens more than I would like. I hope you won’t take offence.’

‘No, not at all. I sometimes lose myself too.’

‘Thank you, for understanding.’

‘Eloise?’ Penelope called.

‘I’m afraid I must go. Good day, I wish you the best.’

‘And I you, Miss Bridgerton. I will be looking forward to reading something of you in the future.’

‘You’re very kind. Thank you’, Eloise smiled.

‘Were you alright over there? We noticed that man talking to you’, Penelope said.

‘Believe it or not, but I believe that might actually be the first time a man approached me in public and was actually friendly and pleasant without making nasty jokes or clearly pursuing me.’

‘Well he couldn’t have, he’s in mourning’, Penelope laughed.

‘Perhaps I’ve been missing out on the best part of London’s men by avoiding widowers and mourners. If I’d known they were all decent people I would have run to them.’

‘Oh Eloise, you’re horrible.’

‘Opportunism is not horrible, it’s pragmatic’, Marina considered. Her gaze flickered to Penelope and she quickly changed her mind. ‘I mean, kindness should always come first but a bit of opportunism can be understood’, she rushed to say.

‘A bit doesn’t hurt. I’d say just this one conversation has been very fruitful’, Eloise decided.

‘I think I found a way out of all unhappiness and broken hearts in my book.’

‘How could you have possibly fixed a plot after one five minute conversation when you have not been able to make up an ending for your book in a month?’

‘I don’t know. It’s like God opened the heavens and showed me the way.’

‘You didn’t die of your first exaggeration, did you?’ Marina asked.

‘And I won’t even die of my millionth’, Eloise grinned.


	14. Chapter 14

**_“The winter of 1819 was a long one. Most of the fashionable ton were out of London until last week, this author certainly was. But gone are the days of being in the comfort of the home in intimate circles. The birds started chirping, bees started buzzing and flowers bloomed. Like clockwork some of London’s Mama’s saw their darling daughters bloom into adulthood, ready to be unleashed upon the marriage market._ **

**_Amongst these freshly budded flowers that are unleashed is Felicity Featherington, the final Featherington girl. She still has two much older sisters out, and one cannot help but wonder whether she will just take over the vacuum the marriage of the second Featherington girl left. Finally the lemon and the lime have a new sister to suffer fashion in horrifying shades of citrus with them. This Author is considering… Orange._ **

**_One person who is not new at all is the untameable bachelorette Eloise Bridgerton who has devoted the past five years of her life to traveling the country, dancing and writing. She received at least one offer of marriage each year, but spurned every single one. One now can’t help but wonder if this is the season the fifth Bridgerton will finally hear the ticking clock located within her body. By now no one will doubt her independence. Or perhaps the embarrassing prospect of having all of her younger sisters married before her will do the trick? This Author does not know what Miss Bridgerton has in mind for herself, maybe she loves the sight of crying suitors too much._ **

**_No matter, both marriage news and courtship drama are interesting. And I will inform you of it all!_ **

**_LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 3 APRIL 1819”_ **

‘Mother, mother, look! Felicity is finally in the papers!’ Hyacinth cried.

‘That she may enjoy the excitement as long as it lasts. It quickly wears off when she has nothing to report society enjoys hearing.’

‘I think they love hearing of you, Eloise. You’re sensational news. All the girls my age are talking about you at tea parties’, Hyacinth laughed.

‘In a good way?’

‘I think in a good way. They liked your book and admire mother for not forcing you to marry. They’re all horribly afraid of not finding someone or marrying frogs. Their mothers pity Mother though. They admit you are clever but also think you are pushing it now, being too picky, demanding and controlling. ’

‘They tell that to you? My sister?’

‘They do not always know I hear them’, Hyacinth grinned.

‘You would make a final assistant to Whistledown.’

‘Oh I’d give a limb to become her assistant’, Hyacinth cried.

‘Did you ever find out who she was? You were obsessed with her. I don’t get why you’re so… indifferent to her now.’

Eloise rubbed her forehead.

‘I’m not indifferent it’s only that I used to revel in the way I was portrayed. I could laugh at the writings about my failed offers of marriage. But I think I’m nearing the age where it’s less amusing to fail at love’, Eloise carefully avoided.

‘Careful, that sounds almost like you’re considering marriage.’

Eloise laughed, leaning back in the couch and tapping her fingers against the armrest.

‘I think that, not counting that first year, I was never much against marriage. I was just against the idea of marrying intolerable men. But I wasn’t pressured to find someone. I had time. I had things I wanted to accomplish. I felt no need to really look’, Eloise shrugged.

‘Awh, and here I was thinking you were so polite to wait for my to come out so I’d have a friend and sister to share my experiences with’, Hyacinth sighed. She dropped dramatically onto the couch. Her head fell down on Eloise’s lap.

‘Watch it, you baby.’

‘Well I think Whistledown is wrong.’

‘Wrong?’ Eloise questioned, laughing. ‘Pray tell when did you become a Whistledown expert?’

‘I’ve been reading her as long as you have’, Hyacinth pointed out.

‘I think you will neither marry nor cause suitor drama this year.’

‘I don’t know whether to be happy or disappointed by that.’

‘I have substantial reason for my belief. You are finishing up the draft of a book. Meaning you’ll finish it this month and publish it anywhere between May and June. You’ll have no time for suitors. You’ll be doing a lot of book discussions I think.’

Eloise and Violet Bridgerton nodded.

‘Well, it does sound realistic. I’ve got to give it to her’, Eloise shrugged.

‘I bet you five pounds I am right.’

‘I will not bet against you. I like my money just where it is, in my pockets. That way I will still have it even if you are right. If I don’t have a husband I can at least have money.’

Violet Bridgerton almost choked on her tea. 

April passed and Eloise was indeed quite busy editing her book. It was a whopping two hundred pages thicker than her previous one. Her publisher was quite uncomfortable at the thought of having to publish a book so long, afraid it would scare away readers while it had a high price to print.

The two men took the manuscripts home halfway through April, and demanded Eloise see them by the end of the month. Afraid they had decided their testing audiences disliked it, she had already resigned to her great masterpiece not getting published. But they loved it, their family loved it and their friends loved it. Everyone had favourite characters and loved different pieces. Some admired the way the characters who went to war were, others admired the women, some adored the new chances at love, others were heartbroken at the death of the captain. Some hated certain characters, others understood them fully.

‘It’s fascinating. It created endless conversations. It resonated with everyone. Everyone’s family has been touched by the war in some way so we adored seeing all the ways it was present in your book.’

‘I really thought you were about to make it terribly dreary, but you really pulled through in the end. If it had remained so down, I would have probably asked you to rewrite the ending. Female writers can’t sell unhappy endings.’

After half an hour of Anthony fighting tooth and nail with the publishers about the amount of copies, the investments, the pricing and the copyright, an agreement was made. Eloise would maintain the copyright, and Anthony would put in a lot of money for the first eight hundred copies.

When they left, Eloise could do nothing but thank her brother.

‘It’s so much money! I made the book too thick didn’t I? You’re an absolute doll for thinking me worth the investment. I’ll name someone in my next book after you and I promise they won’t be an asshole.’

‘They believe it is good. Everyone they showed it to loved it as well. So there’s only one reason why they would then suddenly try and convince you that selling the copyright would be better as it would protect you from financial harm if it flopped. And that’s because in reality the book will do very well. And you would earn more money from maintaining your copyright, even though we will have to spend a shameful amount of money for the printing first… than they can ever give you as a one time sum should you sell your copyright to them’, Anthony decided.

‘I think so too. They were pointing out the dangers of keeping the copyright, pretending they were taking on the financial risk to protect me… knowing there was no risk at all.’

Anthony nodded.

‘I think I’ve done a good investment.’

‘I certainly hope so.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘That depends’, Anthony said, scowling. ‘Was the oldest brother who rushed off to war and got himself caught, leading to his wife’s miscarriage inspired by me?’

Eloise blinked, mouth opening in surprise. Shoot.

‘I think I know enough. At least you had the mercy of not killing me and giving it a happy end.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I suppose my flaws make for a good story.’

‘As does my indecisiveness and pickiness to marry, apparently’, Eloise laughed.

She hooked her arm through Anthony’s on the way home.

‘It’s almost that time of the year again’, Eloise mused. ‘And this time Kate isn’t heavily pregnant.’

‘What, do you think I’ll lose at Pall Mall if I have no advantage? You wound me’, Anthony scoffed.

‘I have half a mind to make a “Left Out Bridgerton” Pall Mall game for all those of us that are left out each year.’

‘Feel free to do so, by all means’, Anthony said. ‘But we’ll delay the Pall Mall game until Colin is back from Denmark.’

‘Ah, understandable. Everything better than replacing one of the original players, hmm?’ Eloise asked.

‘If he’s not back by June, we’ll invite you. As that is about your time of the year.’

‘I have a time of the year?’ Eloise asked, raising her eyebrows.

‘Sure you do. It is whenever someone proposes to you and you decide to flee society. Usually a month before the end of the season.’

‘You are horrible, I do not _flee_. I merely seek more enjoyable society.’

‘If we fled when we got bad experiences, none of us oldies would have gotten married. You might miss some chances.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Sure. Daphne had major disagreements with Hastings. Kate and I did nothing but fight and bicker and said the other was unworthy of marriage… Come to think of it Francesca is the only one who did not first argue with her spouse.’

‘Benedict and Sophie seem quite lovely.’

Anthony choked on a chuckle.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Men talk. No proper topic for ladies.’

‘I wrote gory conversations about death and I’m twenty-three, humour me.’

‘Do not tell mother.’

‘I swear.’

‘Him and Sophie had a major disagreement when he proposed to take her as his mistress before they married.’

‘He did that? What? Oh my… it’s a miracle she married him. She should’ve hit his arse all the way to the colonies’, Eloise protested.

Anthony nodded.

‘The only one who fled after a bad encounter were you and Colin… And coincidentally neither one of you is married.’

‘It’s not coincidental. It’s one hundred percent deliberate. There is not one suitor I rejected I valued in the slightest. I would reject them all over again if I had to. London simply has no worthwhile bachelors.’

‘Perhaps we should ask Mr. Bagwell if he knows anyone. Him and Edwina are coming over to show Kate the newest of their brood.’

‘They’re coming to London? Neat.’

‘Do not consider giving Edwina your book. She is far too delicate and she has given birth only a month ago. So much death in a book would make her upset.’

‘Anthony, she read all the ancient Greeks and Roman writers. I believe she’s read about double the amount of deaths that you have had drinks in your life.’

‘That could be a compliment and speak well of both of us’, Anthony defended.

‘Except we both know how much you’ve drunk.’

Anthony took a deep breath and rolled his eyes.

‘Ever charming, you. One wonders, with your nose for social cues and polite and affectionate behaviour how a girl such as you could still be unwed.’

‘I ask myself that same question’, Eloise smiled sweetly, ignoring the sarcastic jibe.

The season went on, and if it wasn’t for the whole of London inviting her to their reception rooms, tea afternoons and gaming nights to talk about her newest book, the season would be awfully dreary. She felt impatient, her skin itching for something to happen.

On a rare morning she was free and did not have to make social calls, she stayed in and wrote to Colin.

_“Oh, I_ _have never been so bored in all of my life. Colin, you must come home. It is interminably boring without you, and I don’t think I can bear such boredom another moment. Please do return, for I have clearly begun to repeat myself, and nothing could be more of a bore. The only saving graces in my existence are Kate, Edwina and Penelope. But two of them are married and the other one is still not you. I miss mischief in the evenings, calling each other names in the morning, and hearing of everyone’s antics. We’re much too mature and growing way too far apart now. I cannot bear it.”_

She wondered what it was that made her so agitated and restless. She was never at ease anymore at home. After finishing a book she usually felt satisfied and even lazy, her head blissfully empty now that characters no longer bothered her. This was different. She was pacing entiring mornings, driving her mother mad with her tapping foot and tapping nails. Every time the butler appeared she shot upright. And every night she came home from a ball, she had difficulty sleeping. It felt as if something was missing. And for a while she believed it was Francesca’s absence. She would usually talk to her, coming home after balls. In the mornings they would usually provide their family with witty observations made at balls and soirees. But no. It just felt… different. And the unrest, instead of feeling like the usual loneliness in her soul she got right after another sibling left, was instead located within her heart. It was more an unease than a loneliness. It was an itch, an annoyance, a frustration… and a keen sense of boredom. She could only hope Colin would return and fill it up.

It was only when she came home from a ball one night, with five lines of dialogue that had spruced into existence at the ball, and she was rummaging through her drawer to find a piece of paper, that she found the reason for her inexplainable feelings. Her hand connected with a stack of letters.

Sir Phillip’s letters.

She paused, the lines of dialogue dissipating into thin air.

He had not written since his last letter in January. She swallowed, her heart beating in her ears. Since starting their correspondence she had not gone longer than three weeks without receiving a letter from him. Now it had been almost five months. He had written the last letter. Technically it was her turn to start again. Had he been waiting for her all this time? A brick fell onto her stomach.

Something about their last private conversation had just felt strange. They had crossed a line she could not name, implicating things she was barely sure of actually existed. He had steered clear of her after until they left, as if she’d done something wrong.

And so it had felt wrong to write to him, especially when she was together with his wife who had, of all people, the biggest right to write to him and could just as well send him updates. And after coming home… she had not even considered. It had been months since their last letter. Addressing it seemed moot as they had met, but what was there to speak of? And should and could there be spoken after their last conversation? In some ways, it had felt final.

But what if he, sad, miserable, alone, afraid and guilty, had been waiting for her to write?

Her hands shook. She did not want to claim to be the most important person in existence, but she had a feeling Phillip had few others he talked to as much as he did to her. And he already did not want to talk about a great many things with her. The only time he had actually opened his mouth and talked about his worries and emotions he had patronized her by telling she could not understand, followed by asking her to forget.

The stone was stacked with another, and another. Until an entire brick wall lay upon her stomach.

But what could she do?

She shook her head, putting the letters back in.

In the mornings, she usually read his letters. In the evenings she usually wrote letters to him, filling them with funny remarks she had heard, silly events she had seen, and reflections she had during her post ball blues. Every moment she had felt agitated, every moment she had jumped up at the appearance of the butler and every restless night were the result of vacuums he had left and she had been unable to fill up. And more than making her lonely, it had made her feel frustrated and bored. He had filled up her life by amusing her with dry remarks, stupid bits of useless information and…

Just thinking about him, even as annoyed and uncertain and uneasy as she was right now, made her feel soothed. The hole inside her filling up. No matter his tone that one night, no matter his question she forget the conversation, she doubted he wanted their friendship to end. Or at least she certainly hoped not. Eloise had never lost a friend before. She hadn’t even had an argument with him. Not really, at least. She would start thinking about it, and once she had enough to put in a letter, she would write it. Awkward as it would be to start up a letter conversation without anything to tie her letter back to.

The next day she had no time to even consider starting a letter, so full was it with engagements.

‘Do you think yours will be hailed a classic for the ages, like Scott’s work? It has that historical edge, or will have it, once the war is no longer recent history’, Catherine Dubarton asked.

Eloise sat in a ghastly pink receiving room surrounded by thirty women, most of whom were married. And on some laps sat babies whose cries and wails sounded like nails on chalkboard to Eloise.

‘It would be quite arrogant to answer that question. I’ve already got enough flaws, I won’t add pride to that.’

‘Oh, Miss Bridgerton, you are ever so witty’, baroness Clarice Woodland said. On her lap sat a pug, who was all by all the most agreeable companion any of the ladies had brought with them. The lady herself was dressed in a particularly bright shade of green, but it suited her blonde hair rather well.

‘One can just hear your book when one listens to your voice.’

‘Uhm… Thank you.’

‘Now, I do want to ask a bit of a naughty question that I do not know has been asked to you yet. Or if it has, the answer is not public knowledge.’

‘Oh dear, do I need to be frightened?’ Eloise laughed, taking a sip of tea.

‘All your women always end up with men who suit them. Silly pompous men get vain airheaded wives. Sweet women get sweet husbands. I do admire you match them, and show that what people look for in spouses is often either a reflection of who they themselves are, or of what they need. So I do wonder… who of all the men you’ve written would you consider fitting for yourself, based on their personalities?’

‘Before answering I must ask: are you trying to find out to match me to gentlemen you know that possess those traits?’

‘Oh heavens no, I’m much too selfish and self-centred. I’m focused on finding someone for me. Not others. To each their own. I detest busybodies intervening in the lives of others.’

Eloise laughed. ‘God, hard one. Not a single man from Hestia. And… not a single brother from this book. Not the sailor… I’d have to say Richard.’

‘The scholar? How interesting. I found him rather boring. I thought you anything but’, commented Clarice Woodland.

‘I thought he suited Anna rather well. She’s been through a lot, most of that caused by her bon vivant little brother and her rash decisive older brother. She’s looking for something more mild. And she’s looking for someone who won’t get killed by their profession. Someone who understands her grief and is there for her, and matches her in intellect. Which he does. I always find it important that my characters are an intellectual match, rather than two attractive likeable people thrown together.’

‘Is he inspired by someone?’

‘Inspired?’

‘Well, Whistledown pointed out how perhaps the older brother had something away from yours, and the middle child had something away from you… So I wondered, are they based on real people?’

Eloise paused.

‘Life is the best source of inspiration, I find. Struggles people have in real life resonate best with readers. They feel authentic. As do characters inspired by real people. The older brother is not just a replica of Viscount Bridgerton. Most characters are a blend of real life people I know, combined with backstories and traits I added myself in the creative process. I can admit that some side characters have been a combination of one of my brother-in-law’s wit with the the jokes and looks of one of my brothers, for example.’

‘So who is scholar Richard inspired by then?’

And in that instant, Eloise realized that despite her talk, that there were some characters that were no composite of multiple people. There was the one mean suitor who fell to his death, drunk, in her book. And then there was herself… and…

Richard. Who was from start to finish as alike to Sir Phillip as a character without children and wife could be.

Entirely uncoincidentally Whistledown’s review of Eloise’s book highlighted all the doubts she had been feeling.

_“Is it not coincidental that the almost-middle child of the Bridgertons wrote about a middle child who both wants and dreads marriage? Had Anna married her first beau, she could have been a widow. Or been as miserable as her sister-in-law with a husband far away. Had she been married she would not have been able to provide support for the middle brother. On the other hand was she not emotionally destroyed for years at having to be alone, and did she not long for marriage? This Author thinks Eloise Bridgerton delicately considered the paths of spinsterhood and matrimony, weighing all the pros and cons, and found matrimony, surprisingly, superior. But to the bachelors of London I would ask: do not overconfidently swagger her way, This Author believes Miss Bridgerton is looking for a love match like her siblings. Four marriages miraculously based on love and affection, a true rarity in these circles of society.”_

**_LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 2 JUNE 1819_ **

Eloise could not enjoy her crisis in peace.

When she came home, ready to fling herself on her bed and have a full-blown crisis, she did not get past the living room.

‘Eloise?!’

‘Colin!’

Her brother ran out of the living room.

‘There you are, been a while.’

‘Oh, you listened to my letter!’

‘Your letter?’

‘I begged you to come. I sent it to you late last month?’

‘I was already on the way back. I’m sorry. It must have arrived after my departure.’

‘No matter, I’m so glad to see you again!’

She flung herself around his neck.

‘Are you alright?’ Colin asked, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length.

‘You’re not usually this… huggy.’

‘Well, you’re not usually away this long.’

‘Fair point’, Colin admitted.

Eloise rested her cheek against his chest.

‘Anthony will demand the annual Pall Mall game takes place within the next two weeks’, Eloise sighed.

‘Right. Pall Mall. Completely forgotten about that’, Colin admitted.

‘Isn’t it long past the usual date?’

‘He was going to allow me to replace you if you didn’t come back by June.’

‘Lucky me’, Colin laughed. ‘Timed it just right.’

‘Don’t you always?’

‘Is that jealousy I detect?’

‘Maybe a little.’

‘Perhaps you can come with us?’

‘Perhaps I should. Just to avoid Anthony’s accusation.’

‘Accusation?’

Eloise let go, following him back into the living room.

The entire low table was decked out with food as if he hadn’t eaten the entire boat trip and had to catch up on the calories.

‘He claims I always run away by the end of the season after I refuse someone. If I leave before someone asks, I debunk his theory.’

‘Very clever. Anthony will indeed not wait long to propose it’, Colin said as he sat down, taking another biscuit.

‘That means you only have to last a week. Think you’ll manage?’

‘The season has been exceedingly boring. Had some dance partners that came to ask dances every ball and so on, but no one that was constant with their morning visits.’

‘A good sign.’

‘Some needn’t even court me before asking. I’ve had that happen’, Eloise growled.

‘Poor Eloise, too popular for her own liking.’

She poked his side, leading to him yelping and the biscuit flying away.

‘That’s a waste of food!’ he complained.

‘And you’re a waste of air.’

‘Brat!’

Eloise only had four days to go before the party left for Kent. She felt all by all quite confident everything would go well, as she only had one musicale, one dinner party at home and one ball left before the party would leave. Unfortunately though, one ball was enough. It was as if they smelled her intentions.

Mr. Wilson was not a young man, nor was he old, at age thirty, he was however, well foreseen of flesh and his eyes did look a bit bulgy. And so, for a few years, he had come to be known to the household as Mr. Ribbit. And whenever he was invited to a dinner party they too attended, Hyacinth could not help but blow up her cheeks and turn her eyes to the side in the mimic of a frog. His history was about as sad as Eloise’s, with a failed proposal each year. However; he was the unfortunate one doing the offering and had for some reason decided Eloise was old enough to consider him as he was neither handsome and charming, nor ugly and mean.

But when he announced themselves the morning after the ball, Hyacinth could not stop herself from laughing, making frog sounds and even doing a hop. Not even a deaf person could have pretended not to hear the make-belief frog noises that came from inside the drawing room. And so when he was shown in, Eloise blushing and Hyacinth with a red face from trying to contain her laughter, he already knew how that morning was going to end. Out of pity, Eloise asked him outside for a private conversation. And more out of preparedness than willingness or hope, he asked the question, to which she gave the expected answer. She then thanked him, and mentally patted herself for taking this a lot better than the previous proposals. But then the previous proposals were made by arseholes.

‘Please, don’t tell me you’ve accepted Mr. Ribbit’, Hyacinth begged.

Eloise, both furious and desperate and sad that everyone except people she admired proposed, stomped off to her room.

Damned Hyacinth. Damned London’s bottomless pool of unattractive bachelors, and damn bloody Anthony for being correct once again.

She threw a quill, an ink jar, a letter writing set and two notebooks in her valise. Perhaps it was a good thing that for once, both the suitcase and the plans were already made. She only had to wait one day more.

‘Oh Eloise, not again’, her mother sighed, appearing at her door.

‘Not. A. Word. Please.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eloise's letter to Colin is almost completely taken over from the book To Sir Phillip With Love, with an added piece. 
> 
> Publishing was a costly venture. Austen herself sold the copyright to two books (Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice), but then decided to switch to keeping the copyright. Which was more expensive but allowed her to keep control over the books and their incomes better. 
> 
> Eloise's experiences are based on my own. I notice how, looking back on all my fics, questions I'm asking myself and frustrations I'm feeling are always reflected. Last time a family member died I think over four important characters died in another fic. So there's that as well. At the moment you sometimes don't quite realise what you're doing is partially autobiographical, you just know you're venting your feelings. It's only in hindsight you notice just how many morcels of your own experiences and feeling have slipped into the fic. Which leads to Eloise's belated realisation.
> 
> The proposal is inspired by a letter fragment of Eloise to Hyacinth: "I grant that Mr. Wilson’s face does have a certain amphibious quality, but I do wish you would learn to be a bit more circumspect in your speech. While I would never consider him an acceptable candidate for marriage, he is certainly not a toad, and it ill-behooved me to have my younger sister call him thus, and in his presence."
> 
> No Phillip in this chapter but we are getting somewhere closer to something. Next one will be real fun ;-)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my dear friend who is an ass-kicking security guard and simultaneously the proudest plant dad on earth who drives both his family and his girlfriend to desperation by turning every room into a greenhouse, saves greenery from the bin in botanical gardens and stays up until 5am ranting about ecology. You're the extraverted 21st century version of Phillip Crane who inspired this chapter.

On June twenty-fifth, the annual Pall Mall game took place. The event was attended by the participators Colin Bridgerton, Kate Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Edwina Bagwel, Daphne Basset and Simon Basset. It was witnessed by guests who were constantly threatened with death for talking by Anthony, namely Eloise Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Sophie Bridgerton, Timothy Bagwell and Posy Reiling.

Violet Bridgerton, full time matriarch and half-time Lady Bridgerton was watching over Anthony’s, Daphne’s and Benedict’s brood in the comfort of Aubrey Hall. Despite the season not officially ending for another two weeks a heat wave had descended upon the country. Many nobles had been chased away from the sweltering heat sticking between the many buildings of London, instead breathing in the more moderate climate of the countryside during the daytime and spending the evenings in the eternally chilly ancient halls of their families.

‘Ouch, that looks painful’, Eloise muttered when Colin’s ball hit Anthony’s and rolled it further from the wicket.

‘It is not because you have stopped shouting that I can no longer hear you, Eloise’, Anthony growled.

Eloise stifled a chuckle.

‘You know, Miss Bridgerton, I went to the south of France for an excavation and brought hompe quite some flowers and even five full trees. If your acquaintance is still searching for new flowers, and is in need of a Mirabelle tree, do let me know.’

‘Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you, Mr. Bagwell. Thank you. I will enquire, but I think I already know he’ll be excited. Thank you.’

‘Damn it all!’

‘Bugger Kate, c’mon. Was there no other victim?’ Colin cried.

Eloise swung her head back to the game, following the gaze of her two brothers. Two balls were not even in sight anymore and Kate was cackling.

‘Sorry doll, you were just in the way of Anthony’s exit.’

‘What happened?’

‘She was close to Anthony so she tacked his ball and it knocked into Colin’s. Both balls are down the slope now. This game is never won without someone being cheated out of winning’, Edwina sighed, stifling a yawn.

‘You’ll make a lovely first or second dear. I’m sure.’

‘As am I. They’re always too busy sabotaging the others to stop me’, Edwina smiled sweetly.

Eloise had to smile at the rare appearance of Edwina’s perverse sense of humour. Kate did not have Edwina’s subtlety, but both shared a very good brain and wicked humour.

‘I’m considering a swim, once the risk of getting sunk by a cannonball from the mainland is over’, Benedict noted.

‘It is very hot’, Sophie admitted. ‘I could lie on that cold stone floor in the hall all day.’

‘Or just stay in the water, like at my cottage.’

‘Oh yes. I do believe our lake is better for swimming, it has got a soft sand bottom, this one is not as even and it has pebbles. And it’s not as discreet. It’s very much visible.’

‘One would think a patch of woods would keep unwanted onlookers away from a private swim’, Benedict grinned.

Eloise shot the couple a curious look.

Sophie blushed.

‘Do you want a lake, dearest?’ Mr. Bagwell asked his wife.

‘What would I do with a lake?’ Edwina laughed to the relief of her husband.

‘Though I suppose if we continue getting hot summers like this a small pond would not be horrible. To keep our feet cool.’

‘Kate will not mind not having a lake to cool down in?’

‘Kate could fold herself triple to fit inside a tub when we were warm in the summer as children. She’ll adjust’, Edwina decided.

‘Kate is coming to you?’

‘Yes, their cousin is about to give birth so she wants to be around.’

‘Oh, how lovely.’

‘It is, isn’t it.’

‘Say… I’m guessing that tree cannot survive being sent by post twice, once to me and a second time to the real recipient. So perhaps wouldn’t it be better if it was taken… well, directly to the person who would be receiving it?’

‘Uhm… I guess it would, yes. But… I have no idea who that is or where that person lives.’

‘They actually do not live that far away from you, I imagine. They’re also from Gloucestershire.’

‘Ah. Yes, also from the south-east?’

‘Yes, actually they are.’

‘But I do not know these people.’

‘No, you don’t. So it would be a bit odd and against decorum to send it. But then so would inviting myself to your home to do it myself’, Eloise carefully said, looking anywhere but him.

‘It would be practical though.’

‘It would, wouldn’t it?’ Eloise smiled.

‘So… You’d come to Gloucestershire?’

‘If I’m welcome. And otherwise I pick it up and camp out at Benedict’s. He can’t refuse me. Charles adores me.’

‘You are welcome, we do have a bedroom you can use.’

‘I’m grateful for the offer, thank you. Oh, and why exactly one tree?’

‘Well, I didn’t know if they’d all survive the trip. And I only needed four. I have rows of four for every fruit tree in my yard.’

‘How yum.’

**_\------------------------------------------_ **

The cousin birthed a baby boy named Arthur and although the mother had lost a lot of blood and would be on bedrest for at least two weeks, both her and the baby were fine.

Eloise and Kate had just visited her in the morning. While Edwina was keeping her company in the afternoon, Eloise and Kate decided to spend an afternoon in town.

‘Final tickets, final tickets for today’s boxing show! Three pairs of fistfighter, three winners, three losers. Place your bets and go home with more money than you arrived with!’ a man cried.

‘So they have that here too? It’s all the rage in London but I did not believe some backwater around here would have that’, Eloise said.

‘Seems like rough country folk enjoy watching rough games. I, for one, am not surprised’, Kate laughed.

‘Want to watch some shirtless sweaty men grunting it out?’ she teased.

Eloise looked up, observing the thickening grey clouds.

‘I think it might be the only way to spend our afternoon without being soaked. I’ve never seen it before but sure, why not? Maybe it’ll give me inspiration.’

‘Ah yes, we can watch under the excuse of research’, Kate laughed.

The girls entered the back of the pub that was usually used for these locations, and sat down at a medium level bench. The room smelled of ale and hay that lay in a ring in the middle of the room.

‘Why is that there?’

‘There’s arguments for it and against it. It’s not a good surface to stand on but it’s easier for the staff to clean afterwards.’

‘Clean?’

‘If they bleed.’

‘It’s boxing. Not fencing, why would they bleed?’

‘Oh Eloise, you really are a novice’, Kate laughed. ‘If they get punched in the face, or on a wound.’

‘They punch in the face?’

‘Well, in London they wouldn’t. It’s not proper. But around here it’s a bit rougher.’

‘Holy…’

The first two fighters appeared, a scrawny farmhand against a burly smith.

‘Oeh, Edwina talked about them. Apparently they’re fighting over the same girl. Seems they’ve decided that if they are to fight over a girl they’ll do it where everyone can see it.’

‘He must either love her very much and wants to show her his devotion, or be very stupid to want to be defeated in such a public manner. There’s no way he’ll win’, Eloise said. Poor bloke.

To his credit he lasted a lot longer than she would have given him credit for. But in the end after nasty punches in the ribs and on the back, and with a tooth less, immediately showing Eloise why they used straw, the scrawny man lost.

The next couple of fighters climbed into the square.

Kate started whispering something in her ear but it just sounded like a rushing.

Her vision tunneled when she saw the second person climb in.

Her heart dropped and her throat constricted.

‘Eloise?’ Kate asked with an anxiety in her voice that told Eloise it wasn’t the first time she said her name.

‘Eloise?’ she was shaking her arm now, but Eloise couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even remember how to shape words with her tongue.

Because there stood Phillip.

Tall, so incredibly tall, and lean, and his shoulders. Her stomach twisted.

‘Right, ladies and gents our next match of the afternoon we have our second best town boxer Bill against out of town newbie Phill. A round of applause if you please! Now as one is new and his name cannot commend him y’all are still allowed to place bets after the first round. We’ll have a pause of a minute and a half to allow for it. If he makes it to the end that is. If he don’t, well then, only the bold guessers will win something this match.’

‘Does the bloke even know what he doing?’

‘Yeah! Can ‘e throw a punch?’

The public demanded information.

Phillip told something to the ringmaster while the other contestant, who looked exactly as one would imagine a rough country boxer to look, took off his shirt.

‘The lad says he boxed in his youth for four years but he’s been out of it.’

‘Easy bet’, Kate laughed.

‘Shut up’, Eloise hissed.

‘What, you think that man… can beat the second best boxer of the village?’

‘I don’t know… But after the way the other guy was all banged up I don’t…’

‘Eloise, is something the matter? I would’ve thought you’d enjoy these kinds of things.’

‘The sport’s fine’, Eloise said. ‘It’s just.. You know. Getting used to it. I can’t imagine anyone would want to risk losing their teeth for a silly sport.’

‘Some of these men are just desperate for the cash a win can grant them’, Kate shrugged. ‘To be honest I don’t know why someone from another village would come here against boxers he isn’t familiar with. Maybe it’s shame at having to fight for cash. And what are the organizers thinking? Putting a rookie against a veteran like that? Absolutely tasteless. That’s not how you make a show. You put two equals against each other so it’s deliciously long and tense. This is just… serving dead meat.’

‘They’re quite equal in posture though. The other fellow is even taller and broader of shoulder.’

‘Yeah but… He’s skinny and number two is all lean muscle’, Kate argued.

Eloise watched Phillip walk back to the corner and take off his shirt.

_Why was her mouth so parched all of a sudden?_

But she had to admit Kate was right. Phillip was skinny. And while she had never seen him without many layers of clothes she was pretty sure he had lost weight.

What had driven him here?

Why was he doing this?

Why had he lost weight?

What was going on?

But all her thoughts came to end when the bell was rung and Phillip turned way from the crowd, as it was his corner.

His back was covered in scars. Eloise had thought her heart stopped before, but apparently it hadn’t, as she felt a sharp pain in it that second. Those scars were too many to come from an accident.

Whatever had happened to him? The pain those must have caused had to be incredible. She doubted anyone could have given them to him in university or after. Which meant it had to have happened in his youth. She had heard of children getting beaten by nannies or in school but like that? They would have been fired for leaving such marks on the son of a baronet.

The boxers jumped to life, circling each other in the ring, bending through their knees as they took in their opponent.

And then the blows started.

The crowd was cheering for their local Bill, and then jeering when Phillip dealt a blow back in return.

Advise was being shouted, agitated support was screamed and cries reverberated so hard it was almost as if the public had been hit instead of the boxers.

And then to the floor went Bill.

Goosebumps rose on her skin.

Betters flocked to the square, to transfer their bets or place new ones.

‘Damn, stronger than he looks’, Kate said.

‘Mhm.’

‘Is that… Alright. Wow’, Kate stammered.

She stood up, turning her head left and right to get a better look.

‘Their purses look almost identical in fullness now. What do you think?’

‘I think half of the people seriously wasted their hard earned money.’

‘Which half?’ she asked as she sat down again.

‘Time will tell’, Eloise said.

‘It’s innocent. Most bet something really low.’

‘Still wasted.’

‘Judging, aren’t we? Is our money not wasted just the same when we buy new ribbons that we will use six times before the colours are called outdated?’

‘I don’t buy many ribbons. And I’ve worn the same colours for years. I just reuse the ribbons on new dresses with more fashionable silhouettes.’

‘I must say I am liking these new puffier sleeves and wider skirts that are coming into fashion. It looks very cute.’

‘I still think we look like dolls. The current styles still swallow our entire figure.’

‘I wouldn’t want to be stuck in tight trousers and slim waistcoats all days. I would need them tailored every two years if I gained some pounds. Our dresses are much more forgiving than men’s fashion.’

‘They’re starting again’, Eloise said, waving her sister-in-law away. But perhaps she should have remained standing, because the reaction her body had to seeing Phillip hit the floor was nowhere near healthy. But he got up and they went into another thirty second break.

‘How many rounds are there?’

‘As many as it takes. But the maximum is somewhere around fifty’, Kate shrugged.

‘Why, are you bored? We can always – ‘

‘Hush!’

‘Oh, I knew you’d like this. You’re too much like your brothers’, Kate grinned.

Phillip went down again after a hit to the kidney followed by a punch to the shoulder which made him lose his balance.

The screaming and shouting faded into the background.

_Why do you let yourself be beat like this?_

_Could I have changed anything by continuing to write like you?_

_Or have you done this in the past as well and just never mentioned it to me?_

_Get up._

He came back with vengeance, apparently having understood the modus operandi of his opponent, and now kept himself closer to the ground, aiming his punches to his lower body followed by aims towards his throat.

Bill went down with a grunt five times before he rose with a murderous look on his face.

And down went Phillip, again and again. After a while it became eleven-eleven.

Already bruises were starting to well up on both fighters. They retreated to their corners, resting their knees and biting oranges to freshen up.

A shiver racked through Eloise when the bell rang again. She was starting to hate that bell.

‘Eloise, are you fine? You seem awfully invested.’

‘Oh I am. Are you not? I thought you liked tense battles? To me this is quite tense’, Eloise smiled.

Kate did not look fully convinced but a shout made them turn away to the square. Bill had given Phillip such a punch he’d staggered and fallen against one of the wooden poles. Both cringed.

‘It’s a tough watch’, Kate said. ‘I’d understand if you didn’t – ‘

‘I’m fine. Really. I need to see this to the end. I’ll go mad if I don’t.’

It wasn’t a lie. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. It felt rude and inappropriate to look away, it was almost as if she’d withdraw her support while he so clearly needed it.

It was irrational, she knew, he didn’t even know she was here. But she simply had to watch.

She felt as if she was something intimate and forbidden.

And all the time she watched, a part of her brain tried to reconcile it with the Phillip she knew.

He had said he could hurt his children, but a part of her had never really believed that. Phillip had been anything but intimidating. Silent, withdrawn, awkward, fond of plants and quiet. It was hard to see in that man a boxer able to fight a trained boxer for over half an hour after six years of doing nothing sportive.

It was scary, estranging but also… exciting? She couldn’t make head or tails from her feelings.

To think she had unconsciously modelled the main male character of her book after him, and paired him off with the character who resonated most with him.

She couldn’t imagine that character doing this. How could she? If she hadn’t been able to imagine Phillip doing it. But he did. And yet he was still the silent herbologist she knew. He was both. And she hadn’t had a clue. She should have when he broke Lord Wescott’s nose, but she hadn’t. She’d always felt safe around him. Safe in every way, including safe from judgement, something not a single other man had offered her.

Crack.

‘Oeffff’, Eloise hissed when Bill’s fist connected with Phillip’s nose.

It was not fair the only decent man she had ever met was miserable in every way a person could be miserable. It wasn’t fair that he was trapped in every way a free man could be trapped. And it was not fair that despite a wife, children, and at least one friend, he still was so alone and unsupported. And now he was getting beat up on top of that?

Damn it all, she wanted to pick him up from that stage and tuck him away somewhere in a little cottage near the coast and surround him with a thousand flowers and books, encouraging him to talk and feel every day. But she couldn’t do that. How fair was it that you could see a person being absolutely miserable and neither you nor the person could do a thing about it?

Blood gushed out his nose, drenching his hands as he tried to wipe it away. But Bill kept coming, and Phillip darted away. If he hadn’t, he would have had more than a broken nose.

Blood trickled down his neck and mixed with the shimmering sweat on his chest, a vivid red so bright it could almost be orange.

‘Eloise?’ Kate asked.

Eloise turned towards Kate.

‘What?’

‘We can leave.’

‘No, no. It’s fine. I want to watch I do it’s just… I didn’t expect to be so caught up in it.’

‘You’re crying.’

With utter confusion her hand connected with a tear on her cheek.

She huffed a laugh.

And another. Although it sounded like a hiccup that was confused between being a laugh and a sob.

She was crying for a man.

She was crying for a man!

_Oh God, I’m in love. I’m in love with a married man. A man I haven’t talked to for half a year. How did this even happen?_

‘Must be that time of the month’, she quickly said, wiping her hand on her skirts. ‘You know I’m not a crier.’

Kate turned back towards the game.

Bill had tried holding Phillip in a hold, but his body was so slippery with sweat and blood he managed to break free and tackle Bill to the ground.

And keep him there.

And keep him there.

Thousands of thoughts flew through Eloise’s head, but then the bell rung and both were dragged up, swaying on their legs and panting for breath.

Eloise had the sense to laugh and cheer and joke with Kate over the number two of town getting defeated by ‘that skinny out-of-shape man’. But when the next match started and she was sure she had convinced Kate she was alright, she excused herself and rushed into the direction she had seen Phillip take off.

In a backroom of the pub a big washing ton stood, with right next to it Phillip holding a spunge. A decent woman would have stepped back and allowed him privacy, and heavens, she should have. However, she was afraid to lose him if she let him alone.

‘Sir Phillip?’

The man froze. Blood had pooled into lines of scars, and was smeared in brutal strokes across his back.

‘Of course. Someone had to witness that’, he muttered to himself.

She saw that as enough of an invitation, and closed the door behind her before walking closer.

‘Phillip Crane. What has the world done to you?’ she asked.

 _‘_ Nothing I didn't deserve.’

Her heart shattered a bit more.

‘You don’t mean that’, Eloise said, procuring a pitiable excuse of a smile.

Sir Phillip only let out a sigh.

She dipped her handkerchief into the water and offered it to him.

‘I thought you didn’t box anymore?’

‘I don’t.’

Then what –‘

‘An exception’, he said, interrupting her. He looked at her handkerchief. ‘I doubt that’ll do it.’

Just like that, they had started their conversation. As if six months of absolute silence had not separated this and their last conversation.

‘Why?’ she demanded to know.

He muttered something under his breath.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You said something.’

‘It was not meant to be said aloud. Ignore it’, he groaned as he held her formerly white handkerchief to his nose. It came back red and brown yet his face still had some smudges.

‘Then you shouldn’t have said it at all. What did you say?’

‘Something about women and being insufferable.’

‘Ah. Nice. Lovely. Good to know.’

So far being the only man who did not judge her like the others and did not think of her as annoying. Might as well get rid of that notion as well. Always good to know she’d lost her heart not to the one exception but to one of the many pricks she’d met.

‘Know what?’ he asked, confused.

‘How you think about women. Your wife, you daughter, me. Our whole sex. Yet I cannot generalize men according to you.’

Sir Phillip groaned, dropping his head against the stone side of the door.  
‘I changed my mind. I’ve decided I don’t have difficulties with women in general, after all. It’s you I find insufferable. Keeping on asking questions and never taking simple answers.’

She drew back, clearly affronted.

‘Has no one called you insufferable before?’ He found that difficult to believe.

‘No one who wasn’t related to me,’ she grumbled.

He dipped the sponge into the water. His skin glistened as the blood cracked and brightened again once it came into contact with the water.

‘You must live in a very polite society.’ He winced. Something must hurt. Or a great many things, judging by his bruises.

‘Either that,’ he muttered, ‘or you’ve simply terrified everyone. What was it that was said? You put everyone into your books?’

She flushed, and he couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed by his spot-on assessment of her personality or just because she was angry beyond words.

Probably both.

‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered.

He turned to her in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’ He couldn’t have heard correctly.

‘I said I’m sorry,’ she repeated, her eyes daring him to ask her to repeat it a third time.

He was quiet for a while.

‘No, I’m sorry. You were only asking out of politeness. I was being rude.’ And he was being habitually distant, she added in her mind. He never responded and never gave more information than strictly required.

‘Out of worry’, she corrected.

‘Worry?’

‘I was asking out of worry. We’re friends, aren’t we? Isn’t that what friends do? Care about each other’s wellbeing?’

Judging by his surprise, it wasn’t. He deflated, sitting onto the floor and tugging his shirt back on. It clung to his still wet skin.

Eloise observed a drop of water gliding down his neck into the dip between his clavicles. A bit of chest hair was still visible.

‘I almost beat them’, he admitted, voice barely loud enough for her to understand.

  
‘The children?’ she asked. He nodded, miserably. All remaining strength left him after that confession. He buried his face in his hands.

‘They glued their governess’s hair to the sheets. I… I was already in the stables when I realized… I couldn’t do it. I had to get away.’

They glued her hair to the sheets? Eloise was amazed. She’d interacted with those kids for years and although they were energetic menaces, she could not imagine them ever doing such a thing to her or Penelope. What had gotten into them? Even she and her siblings had not been so wicked as children.

‘To protect the children?’ she asked, trying to keep the shock away from her voice. Clearly he was more than shaken by the events that had transpired. He did a fine job of judging himself, so there was no need to pile on some more judgement of her own.

He frowned, staring ahead as if he had to think about the answer.

‘I thought it better. I never wanted to strike them. I don’t want to be like that. But I was so angry.’

The silence bore on.

‘It is what my father did when I – ‘

In that moment with that little half-finished sentence, Eloise’s blood froze.

His father had beaten him and his brother. That was why Marina and Phillip talked about him in such an odd way. That was the cause of the scars!

She bit her lip to keep from letting something out. He had no need for her pity or fury.

Suddenly it became all the more tragic that Marina’s fear for the health of the children had resulted in her continuously telling Phillip to be careful. It made sense now why he was so careful and hesitant around the children. He was a big and powerful man afraid of his own strength. Her fear of him being rough must have reminded him of the violence of his own father. No wonder those remarks had cut him, no wonder his actions had shaken him, he must be terribly afraid of repeating his father’s behaviour.

He withdrew his hands.

There was something so heart-breaking about his expression — the uncertainty, the vulnerability. Eloise felt her heart lurch. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand. But of course she couldn’t. They never could. She only had words.

‘You didn’t do anything.’

‘I could have. My control over my temper has never been perfect… Lord knows it’s why I… Do you know what it’s like to be afraid of your anger?’

He looked down on his hands, blood had dried into the crevices and underneath his nails. Eloise supressed a shudder. She’d seen him looking at his hands before but she’d never understood why. They had always looked like normal hands, rather on the large side, but normal. Now she saw what he must have always seen when he was around the children. Lethally strong weapons.

‘You have never hurt them. It’s been almost six years and you’ve always acted on your better judgement.’

‘I could seriously hurt them. I’m not a small man.’

‘Well, I could hurt people too.’

He raised a critical eyebrow.

‘Not a man like you, but definitely a child.’

‘You would never’, he said with such conviction that her heart made a little jump.

‘Well, neither would you. I’ve seen you around them. You love them, clear as day. You wouldn’t. You don’t need to punish yourself for what you didn’t do. And you especially don’t need to let yourself get beat up for something you didn’t do. Although perhaps… well. Many men in my family are also fond of boxing, perhaps you should take it up again if you feel it’s an outlet for frustrations you’re afraid will otherwise go to others.’

‘I have duties.’

‘Don’t we all? We can make time.’

‘I have a lot of them’, he clarified.

‘Surely you must have some free time.’

‘I do, I spend that in the greenhouse.’

‘Is it your hall that takes up a lot of work, your tenants, or something else?’ she asked. She hoped that if she found the root of the problem, she could suggest a solution and provide him some more free time.

‘I’ve always been able to manage all of that before. No. It’s the household.’

‘The household? But that’s, isn’t that the job of…’

Sir Phillip sighed, rubbing one of his eyes with his free hand.

‘Marina is not always able to do her duties. I’ve been taking on more and more of them.’

She stared at the wet sponge floating in the wooden tub. It was now a horrible red.

‘Damn.’ The curse fell from her lips before she remembered she was in non-familiar company. Sir Phillip, luckily, ignored it.

She looked up at his face, observing him now that the tension had somewhat dissipated.

‘That looks broken’, Eloise said.

‘It feels broken’, he replied gruffly. ‘Bad?’

‘Ehm. Well, it’s quite noticeable.’

‘In need of being put straight again?’ he asked.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Will we need to put it straight? If so, we better get it over with right now.’

He wasn’t suggesting they pull on his broken nose?

‘Eh’, she shrugged.

‘This is one of the times your eloquence would be highly appreciated.’

Unfortunately, Eloise didn’t know a lot about broken noses.

‘Here’, she said, fishing her pocket mirror from her purse. ‘Judge for yourself.’

He took the mirror and inspected his face from the front and side. He handed it back with a sigh.

‘It’s fine. My profile wasn’t the best to begin with either way.’

‘It doesn’t look that different.’

‘Thank you’, he said dryly.

‘It was not bad to look at before, at least in my opinion’, she pointed out.

‘One would hope’, he answered dryly.

He rose, offering her his hand to pull her back up. She accepted.

He picked up his waistcoat, and cringed when he tried to put it over his shoulder.

‘Bruises?’

‘Yes.’

‘Let me help.’

She moved to stand behind him, gently guiding his hands through the holes of his waistcoat and surcoat. His skin was hot, even through his shirt.

‘Thank you.’

He lifted his hands, cravat retrieved from his pocket. But lifting his arms high enough was a struggle as well.

‘I’ve never tried a cravat. But I’m pretty sure I’ll manage better than you right now.’

‘I cannot argue against that’, he admitted.

She went to stand before him, startled at how close she had to be to tie it. Had she even been this close to a man before who wasn’t family? Put her hands on him for this long?

Her stomach felt uneasy as she fumbled with one knot, and another, and then tried to twist it into a decent form. Crooked. Second attempt. _Were it stomach aches or butterflies?_

‘A natural’, he remarked.

‘I do know how to use it as a gag, I warn you. I’ve made many gags in my youth.’

‘That I easily believe’, he smiled.

She raised her eyebrows at him. They were only a few inches removed. Her hands froze. There was a tension in the air, a shift in their dynamic. His eyes, so terribly blue, fell to her lips before he looked up at her again.

She lost control over her body in a way she never had before. Her muscles felt lazy and tense at the same moment. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even break away from his gaze.

Phillip coughed, her throat trembling against her hands.

And the spell was broken. She let out a sigh and quickly looked away. With three quick knots it was over.

‘There, it’s the best I can do’, she said, tucking it into his waistcoat.

They walked out of the room into the town square. It was clear it had rained, but the sky was now a clear blue.

‘You never did say what you were doing here in a tiny village in Gloucestershire.’

‘You never asked’, she pointed out cheekily.

‘I was visiting my sister-in-law Kate and her sister Edwina at the edge of town. Me and Kate came to town while Edwina was visiting their cousin who had just given birth.’

‘I see.’

‘And so Kate and I were just walking around with no goal and thought it would be funny to see a boxing match.’

‘Ah.’

‘Actually… Edwina’s husband is the one, the archaeologist, who once took those plants for you?’

‘Oh. Yes. Much obliged. They’re doing well.’

‘Yes well, actually. He had a tree and some flowers he thought you might like. He took them from his last trip. I was just about to write to you, to ask if you were interested in them. But perhaps you could… come and have a look?’

‘I… uhm. A tree? As in an actual tree?’

‘Mhm’, she said with a smile.

‘A whole tree. A Mirabelle tree.’

‘Ah. Oh but I shouldn’t.’

‘Nonsense. Once Kate is ready watching grown men beat each other to a pulp we could all go over together? Wouldn’t you? Or I’ll have to carry a whole tree to you next time I – ‘

‘No no. I can’t. Can’t ask that.’

‘Good. So it’s a deal.’

And she was in danger of a great heartache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a Regency boxing match, an 8 foot squared area was roped off. Each fighter had a knee man and a bottle man. The knee man would kneel so the boxer could relax his legs between rounds while the bottle man supplied water and a sponge to wipe off dirt and sweat, as well as provide oranges for energy.  
> In the Regency era, each round lasted until one of the men was knocked off his feet with a maximum om 50 rounds. A funfact is that the term "draw" comes from boxing. It's derived from the stakes that held the rope surrounding the ring: when the match was over, the stakes were “drawn” out from the ground, and eventually the finality of taking down the ropes came to stand for the end of an inconclusive fight. These stakes were also the basis behind the money term "stakes" "high stakes". In early prizefights a bag of money, which would go to the winner of the bout, was hung from one of the stakes.
> 
> The 1820’s also meant a departure from the typical regency dresses. Slowly skirts and sleeves got wider and patterns changed in what would later become the typical 1830’s big mutton sleeves and big skirts. Think the fashion from the series “Gentleman Jack”.


End file.
